


Stagnant

by AthenaNuu



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol, Amnesia, Biting, Blood, Disassociation, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Violence, Injury, Plot, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, Smut, Tall Sans, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:02:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 34
Words: 109,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7851787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaNuu/pseuds/AthenaNuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b> *Being rewritten in a new work: Who Were You Before You Were Given a Name.* </b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Terminal Velocity

**Author's Note:**

> **  
> *This is an old fic. It is currently being rewritten/retold[ HERE! ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/15546384/chapters/36089718) ***
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Welcome to Stagnant: a story set before the breaking of the Barrier, following Integrity's journey through the Underground.
> 
> They cannot remember their life upon the surface, and this fractured identity shakes them to their very core.  
> They're compelled towards the bright glow of the Barrier and the freedom it promises, but the closer they step towards the end of their journey, the more they remember of their life above.
> 
> Should they take the opportunity given for a second chance at life, or is the truth really worth searching for?
> 
> What if the truth directly opposes everything their Soul upholds?

 

 [♫](https://soundcloud.com/arms-and-sleepers/orchestral-dramatic-nova)

   
As you picked up speed, the very air in your lungs was forced out. You were struggling to hold in enough for just one breath but somehow found the energy to wail.  
The screams leaving your lips were grasped by the force pulling you down and flung past your ears so quickly that you couldn't tell the difference between your cries and the screeching wind.

Falling.

Soon you were fighting against the all emcompasing darkness, as if kicking away at the air could stop your descent or get it over with quicker.  
You cried and fought and continued to fall, and the time spent speeding towards the inevitable ground seemed to stretch and distort, as if you were plummeting down an infinitely long tunnel instead of a hole in a hill.

Maybe this is where the others were? Just tumbling around in the endlessly looping gloom and isolation; unable to make out any of the sharp rocky walls or craggy ledges through the impenetrable inky blackness.

Falling faster.

Tears were dragged up across your face and into your hair, bobbing and waving in the air.

A moonbeam lit the approaching ground and you hoped an impact was closer than parralax made it appear. Like looking at a deep, deep sea floor through crystal clear ocean; too close but in reality so far away.  
It came closer and closer still and you could make out a colourful haven of green grass and and buttery yellow flowers. Picturesque is all that came to mind.

Your last seconds were nothing but the gravity hurling you downwards and the sudden acceptance of your end.

No longer fighting the air you curled into yourself, one last hug as you scrunched your eyes closed; your last sight being the field below drawing closer.

  
Stalactites.  
Doric pillars.  
Crumbling columns.  
Rubble.  
Grass.

  
Terminal velocity.

 

Golden flowers.

 

  
What a beautiful deathbed


	2. Silk and Shrapnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so your journey begins, but how do you fare after that infinite fall and where exactly have you fallen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning This chapter contains a detailed description of an accidental injury and blood.

Your brain would have rattled around in your skull if it wasn't made of daggers wrapped in cotton wool. Everything felt soft in your dizzy haze yet held a sharp edge at the same time. 

You could see that a singular beam shone down upon you and lit up your surroundings, but everything seemed to refract in the light, causing a blooming fog of objects.

You rolled from your side onto back, unfurling the arm crumpled underneath you and spread it up into the air, like a flower seeking the sun at dawn. Blinking away the blur and stretching out your creaking joints, you became more aware of yourself.

Everything hurt, aching in a way only caused by sleeping in a strange position; unmoving for hours at a time until you awake, groggy and uncomfortable.

 

But you were alive.

 

You weren't quite sure how you'd survived the fall, though if it did seem to go on and on, and despite your mind playing tricks before, you were positive this wasn't a dream.

There was no way you could mistake the familiar pull and release of every breath in your lungs, or the way your pumping blood hummed as anything other than perfect reality, though in denail, you couldn't bring yourself to actually look up to the light and see how far you had fallen.

Looking would confirm that either you had sunk through hours of darkness, or it was only a few seconds of falling, but the latter meant your current surrounding could also be a falsehood given the vivid tumble down.  
Regardless of what really happened, both ways resulted with you down, perched upon a tiny meadow via a hole in the mountain, and there was no way back out the way you came in. You sat up with a huff, patting yourself down to make sure you were intact.

A sharp bolt of pain radiated up your left arm as you pawed at your legs and brought your senses springing back into your mind with a shudder. You bit back a scream and carefully, oh so gently, you held your left forearm with your right hand. 

Your left wrist was very much broken.

You didn't need a professional's diagnosis, as pale shards of bone protruded from the oddly twisted joint. Your hand dangled limply against the wrist, bent at an unnatural angle that made your stomach heave. Blood dripped down your forearm, making you cringe in horror. You turned away from the gore, hoping that not seeing the mangled mess would be enough to stop you from vomiting.

Ignorance wasn't bliss, in this case. The pain seemed to flare with each small movement and you could smell the metallic trails running down your arm. You gagged, mouth watering and a bead of sweat trickled down your temple.

You squeezed your eyes shut again, swallowing the bile in your mouth and focused instead on steadying shaky breaths and calming the spinning of your mind. It hurts, you thought over and over again, and flinched as blood dripped from your elbow onto your lap, but all that counted was you being alive: broken bones can be dealt with.

 

Inhale, hold the breath, exhale and hold.

The fullness of your lungs pushed your chest and stomach out and made your heart beat harder against your ribs.

 

Inhale, hold the breath, exhale, hold.

The emptiness made you feel tight, bringing yourself back together slowly and clearing your thoughts.

 

Inhale, hold the breath, exhale, hold.

 

Keeping up this pattern, you opened your eyes and tried to gather your wits to find where it was, exactly, that you had fallen.

 

Great carved pillars of rock rose up around you like architectural stalagmites, framing the circle of almost perfectly green grass. Thick ivy stems wound their way around the pillars, knitting together the chipped and faded stone, and springy yellow flowers seemed to cushion you from the hard cave floor, leaves waving ever so slightly in a barely felt breeze. The rest of the cavern was too dark to see. Outside of the circle of lit columns and flowers it appeared cold and simply empty.

 

It seemed that during the fall, the strap of your bag had tangled it's way around a foot, as if mimicking the weaving lines of ivy sprouting up from the dirt.

You gently placed your left arm in your lap and pulled the bag towards you. Even whilst trying to avoid sudden movements, pain still zapped like lightening through the arm, a flashing strike within the undercurrent of an horrendous dull ache. A heavy nausea settled in that threatened your stomach and brain alike with pulsing wobbles.

  
Unzipping the bag, everything inside had faired better than your arm and you decided to sift through the other contents later, but in a fit of quick-thinking, you unbundled a light-weight cotton scarf to create a makeshift bandage and sling for the arm. Another pair of hands would've been useful as you folded, twisted and wrapped the fabric around the bloody mess of your wrist, over your shoulder and back under your arm, holding the knot with one hand and pulling it tight with your teeth.

The entire experience was exhausting, taking what you thought was half an hour or more of stopping when the pain of moving your wrist became too much, muffling shrieks into shoulder and starting up again once that had subsided.

You drew in some more steady breaths and pulled yourself up to your feet.  
Small pebbles crunched under your shoes and you hoisted the bag's straps further up the shoulder of your good arm.

A sudden cool gust of air fluttered by, agitating the scuffs of dust that tried to cling to your hair, but some particles blew away through the beam of light and along the cavern. Your clothes waved in the breeze, the fabric somewhat torn in places, but that could easily be fixed. Maybe you had a sewing kit in your bag, you pondered. You enjoyed being prepared for emergencies.

Your pain was now tinged with tingling fingertips from the bent wrist in the sling, and you slowly walked over to a decorated archway that you could just make out in the gloom.

You scoffed, feeling cynical and somehow dejected, and thought that no amount of scarves or sewing kits could have prepared for a situation like this.


	3. Lonely Coreopsis Verticillata

The corridors were huge, opening up over head so tall that even the stalagmites and stalactites hadn't touched yet, like the fingers of giant hands reaching out to clasp one another from within the heart of the mountain itself.

The deeper you stumbled into the corridors the darker it became, though occasionally the floor was spotted with patches of light that branched down from the cave ceiling, dappling the cold stone lighter shades of grey.  
Airborne particles of dust and dirt made the shafts of light look almost solid pillars in the gloom.

The mechanics of the light baffled you; were these smaller tunnels dotted throughout the entire mountain, like over thousands of years the elements from the surface had pierced down into the rock to let in daylight underground?

Or worse, you thought with a shudder, had something dug it's way out?

Your eyes slowly grew accustomed to the darkness as you stumbled underneath another archway. The juxtaposition of the scraggly cave walls and the detailed doorway held a sharp contrast even in the shadows.  
It was very ornate with swirling curves and deep set symbols carved with precision. You paused underneath the stoney border, running your finger along a smooth ridge. To your surprise, the rock held minimal weathering or decay.  
It made you wonder if you had stumbled upon some archaic ruined temple, or were these buildings more recent? Were archaeologists aware this existed?

Before long you could make out another patch of green illuminated amongst the blacks and browns. Unlike the small field you had fallen on to, only a single yellow flower grew here.

The pain in your arm had stayed consistently horrendous and it was exhausting carrying yourself when all you really wanted to do was sleep.

You stopped in front of the flower and looked around. Very similar to where you had awoken, this hollow's ceilings were high and jagged, a wide and dank room with a sole exit and bordered with more architectural carvings.  
You sighed, feeling drained. You told yourself it would do more harm than good to rush on headstrong into unknown territory, especially with an injury.

You lowered yourself to the ground, not caring if your clothes earned grass stains in your effort to move slowly.  
You allowed yourself time to breathe, bathing in the light as you inspected the curious lonesome flower.

The golden petals put the colour of the setting sun to shame, shimmering and almost pearlescent with dew. It's waving stem grew thick and a pair of healthy leaves sprouted from between small thorns.

You were so deep in thought studying the flower, you barely registered it blinking up at you. It let out an airy twinkle of a laugh and a mouth opened up from the previously seamless surface of it's face.

"Howdy!" It giggled.

Wrong. This was wrong. All your instincts cried out again that something was so very wrong. Static shot through your nerves and adrenaline kicked in with a wave of goosebumps. You flung yourself away from the plant with a shriek, scrabbling across the ground with your good hand and the skin of your bare knees skidding upon harsh stone.

The hairs on your arms stood to attention as you rose to your feet.

"I'm sorry," The flower spoke up again, "I didn't mean to scare you! It's just, y-you were staring at me for so long..."  
It trailed off and looked down meekly at the grass.

Your eyes moved rapidly, intensely examining the blossom as it bobbed in a gentle draft from the doorway behind you.

"Gosh, your injured! Are you okay?" It gasped, pale eyes staring at your handmade bandage-sling.  
"You fell down here, huh?" Its voice was gleeful as it stared up at you, eyes wide and gaze unwavering.  
"You must have gotten hurt when you landed, poor thing." It wouldn't stop talking, chipper and high, watching you expectedly.

You let out a shallow, shaking breath. The adrenaline chasing through your body lessened the pain in your wrist as you prepared to flee, but your body wouldn't comply; too shocked to move. The sudden furious pumping of your blood made tiny red rivulets trickle down your arm faster, drip drip dripping onto your feet.

"I guess you're new here. Don't worry, I'll help you. I'm Flowey, Flower the Flower!" A too-wide smile spread across its face.  
"It's okay, friend, lil' ol' me will explain how things work down here."

Flowey continued waving and bobbing gently, still waiting for you to say something. Your mouth occasionally opened and closed as half formed words died on your lips.  
The need but inability to move make you feel sick all over again, leaving you a trembling and sweaty mess.

"You're a quiet one, aren't ch'ya?"  
It's grin faltered and for a second twisted into more of a grimace, until it snapped back into a tight smile.

"Welcome to the Underground, a place filled to the brim with magic and fun!" Flowey's voice was strained and sounded rehearsed. Blood congealed between your fingers, soaking into the scarf and globbing whenever you flinched.

"Here, why don't I patch you up, friend?"

You nodded dumbly.

The light around the flower dimmed and you could feel a twinge of fear as you tensed.  
Suddenly, your chest lurched forward as something jerked free from the centre of your breastbone.

Cold tears spilt down your cheeks and a sob made you wobble on your feet. The only thing keeping you upright was a taut, invisible string that tied you to the object floating in front of your chest.

A strong blue light splashed around you, marking everything with a surreal glow. The heart shape looked glassy; smooth, shiny and glowing from within. A dense navy blue fog swirled inside the glassy case, flecked with strings of gold and it drew you in, like staring into the abyss of the deepest ocean.

Your chest felt tender, like a pulled muscle as you raised your good arm, impulsively grasping the object and pulling it closer.

Gripping the heart light stilled your mind, fear leaving you but your gut repeated the same things over and over.

Safe. Keep it safe.

Safe. Wrong.

Hide it.

Put it back.

Flowey smiled gently, the blue light turning it's petals a sickly shade of green.

"That right there is your SOUL. It's the very essence of your being! Gee, it's so weak, I guess that's because you're injured?"

Flowey continued talking, something about love and experience, but you weren't paying attention.  
The hollow feeling reminded you of the emptiness of your lungs during your fall.

"I can fix you right up with these little, uh, medicine pellets." Flowey wavered, blinking as several small white beads appeared suddenly and spun around him.

"Here, catch as many as you can!"

You hugged the soul closer as the beads sped towards you.

Even though the broken wrist made your entire arm feel like it was on fire, the pain was nothing compared to the feeling of a stray pellet catching upon on the surface of your soul.  
It was like your entire body was being rubbed down from within by razor-wire, crippling and raw, deep incisions etched upon your very being.

You screamed, falling hard onto your already bleeding knees and panted in agony.

Flowey let out a sickening cackle before it withdrew quickly into the earth, the evil sound echoed around the chamber. It's voice drawled, cracking and jumping with a deep undertone of vicious glee.

"You idiot!" Flowey popped up from the dirt mere inches away from your face.

Saliva dripped from your open mouth as your whimpered, trembling on your hand and knees. Mostly the pain subsided but it left you with a lingering sting. Your soul thrummed from the agony, blue light dimming slightly. 

"You're just as boring as the others." It scowled, mocking you. A leaf extended towards your soul as the blue heart hovered, half-tucked into your scarf. You flinched backwards again and the flower's stem grew thicker and taller, pushing itself further out of the ground and right into your face.

Your eyes met Flowey's as it's face distorted, bloodshot eyes pierced your gaze, smile splitting open into needle-tooth pointed sneer.

Hundreds of white bullets popped into existence and pinned you in place, spinning a dense circle around you that grew tighter the closer it came. You could hear your heart beating in your ears and the beads whirring in the air.

The voice dropped to a low growl.

"Down here, it's kill, or be killed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 Chapters in and we've only just met another character. Whoopsie!
> 
> I'll try to pick up the pace a little now!
> 
> The problem with having a blank reader is that they're often only defined by the characters are them, so Reader will start off a little basic, but will have lots of character development in the next chapters and will eventually gain a name!


	4. Burnt Out

"Oh, don't make this too easy for me!" Flowey dissolved into shrieking laughter.  
"The last one was scrappy, fought a bit too, but you just stood there. You didn't even move!"  
  
It's voice was shrill and manic, being carried by a great booming undertone that reverberated in your chest.

"You really are an idiot."

With some effort, you pushed yourself up onto your feet, head centred within the circle of bullets like a shrinking, deadly halo.  
Flowey squinted at your struggle to stand and pushed himself further out of the ground to meet your eyes once more.  
  
"Aren't ch'ya going to say anything?" It tested, sounding less pleased with itself by the second  
It's face twisted once more into a ghoulish smile, but still sounded angry at your silence.  
You stood, injured hand gently clutching your navy soul to your chest, the other hand squeezed into a tight fist.  
  
"C'mon human! Say something. Beg for mercy, beg for me to spare you!" A single bullet withdrew from the spinning ring and hit you square in the stomach. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to give the plant the satisfaction of hearing you scream. Another stray bullet stabbed into a knee cap, but you stood strong.  
  
You couldn't win this fight. You were going to die, the thought settling into you with a cold dread. The ring of bullets had you trapped.  
The white beads were turning faster as they lowered around your head, stopping in line with your neck. You glowered at Flowey, the bullets blurring into a solid ring in your peripheral vision.  
  
You didn't know how much more pain you could take.  
  
If you were going to die, you would do so with pride, standing tall, dried tears upon your cheeks and soul ablaze.  
  
The flower opened its mouth to say more, but a ball of flames rushed towards the flower, burning bright and yellow as it knocked into the thick stem. The impact uprooted Flowey out of the dirt and it skidded far across the cavern.  
The sudden dazzling light seemed even whiter in the darkness, and the speed of it disoriented you. You listed to the side, fall slowly but surely. Your head collided with one of the bullets and the entire ring disappeared.  
  
Your wrist gave a sickening crunch upon your impact and your head was left ringing as it bounced off the floor. Blood from your nose pooled under your cheek.

Everything moved slowly and began to blur.  
A figure in purple approached you, kneeling down to your body crumpled upon the floor.  
  
Two large, furred fingers pressed gently onto the side of your neck, your pulse hummed back weakly against them.

  
"Oh, thank goodness." A soft, voice breathed out in a sigh of relief.  
Strong arms lifted you up, you head lolling to the side as you were cradled in the crooks of their arms. You were suddenly so very tired. The effort to even breathe was exhausting and your limbs flopped around uselessly as you were carried underneath an archway.  
  
"Do not fret, dear one, I am here."  
  
Everything was growing soft and your vision was tunneled. Even your wrist didn't hurt much anymore. You tried to smile, relieved, but your mouth just opened into a soft 'o' shape, head slumping against the figure's soft chest.  
  
"My child, can you hear me?"  The voice echoed and seemed too far away.  
Even though you wanted to stand up to walk and fight the drain of your light-headedness,  
it become easier and easier to let yourself slip into darkness.

You dreamt of falling and wilting yellow flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the shorter chapter and all the cliffhangers! I don't plan on it, they just seem to happen! Hehe.
> 
> But I'm getting chapters out rather quickly, so you won't have to wait too long for answers ;3
> 
> Feel free to comment with any questions you have or to point out any typos or errors I missed during proof reading.


	5. The Smell of Old Books and Hot Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally wake up, after days of unconsciousness.

For a moment you thought that you had awoken on the flowerbed again, as everything felt so soft and springy underneath you.  
  
Through the muddled confusion you remembered snippets of consciousness, moments of clarity within your foggy, dreamlike state: so much pain, tasting blood in your mouth, your entire body burning and sweating as you slipped into vivid, fever-induced dreams. But throughout the pain you recalled fragments of conversations, a soothing hand on your forehead and someone cooing words of encouragement.  
  
You eyes fluttered open and you sighed in relief. No towering cave above you or flowers beneath your back. You were laid upon a soft bed, smothered in comfortable blankets and plush pillows underneath your head.  
The room was cozy, with small pieces of furniture pressed up against the warm coloured walls. The lamps tucked into the corners were switched off, so the only light trickled in from underneath the door.

 A music box twinkled away pleasantly from atop a chest, filling the room with a plinking, chiming tune.

  
You took your time sitting up, carefully swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, bracing yourself for pain to wash over you. However, none came. You ached, like you had pulled a muscle deep within your chest, but the nerve splintering pain had gone.  
  
Bringing your arms up, you were surprised to discover your sling was missing and your wrist was no longer bent at a disturbing angle. The skin on the underside of your wrist was marred by long but soft pink scars, shaped like jagged bolts of lightning. Your previous injury had been unnaturally made healthy, turning a deep wound into something that appeared to have healed years ago. The only part that made the injury seem more recent were the bruises that throbbed, mottling your skin as it spanned from your palm to halfway up your forearm. But, for the most part, you were okay.  
  
No open fracture, no bleeding, just scars and bruises that almost felt like battle wounds. You supposed, in a way, they were.  
  
You gently moved your wrist around, twisting it this way and that, clenching into a fist and wriggling all of your fingers to stretch the muscles. A nervous chuckle escaped you as you thought, this was the least strangest thing that had happened to you so far. You stretched the rest of your body out from your seated position, cracking bones and smushing some muscles with your thumbs to relieve the tired spasms of disuse.  
  
  
  
Someone had also cleaned and patched up your dirty, torn clothes, leaving them folded neatly in a pile by the bed, and you had been redressed in an oversized white shirt that barely reached your midthigh. It made you appear and feel too small, like a child playing dress-up in their parents’ clothes. The thought of somebody redressing you sent a disturbed shiver down your spine. You peaked down the neckline of the large shirt and felt little relief that your old underwear was still in place.  
  
You stood and blood rushed to your head, arms held out like a bird's wingspan to keep you from toppling over, bare feet planted firmly against the cold wooden floor. Your lack of energy made you wonder how long you had been asleep. The feeling slowly passed and you dropped your arms to your sides to investigate the room.

  
Large stuffed animals sat by the side of the bed, glazed eyes staring back almost lovingly. A crayon drawing was tacked to the wall and the simple furniture seemed a size too  small; this room was for a child.  
  
The chest at the foot of the bed contained a few pairs of shoes. You made a mental note to check the wardrobe for clothes later and you padded towards to the door. Your hand shook as you reached towards the handle, but steadied yourself with a huff of determination and twisted the knob.  


  
  
Gentle yellow light lit the hallway, giving the house a serene, cozy glow. You stepped into the hallway, anxiety nibbled at you as you saw the flash of a brighter yellow from the corner of your eye. Your head snapped around to an empty hallway of closed doors and decorative potted plants. Your breath shook and you recalled a fuzzy memory.  
  
  
  
“You are going to be okay, my child. Stay strong” the voice had said and the words had lulled you into an almost pleasant sleep.  
  
  
  
You nodded to yourself, resolve strengthened by the memory and you walked away from the dead end hallway, towards a more spacious section of the house. This area held a crossroads: a large door to your left, the hallway continuing in front of you where it turned a corner, and to your right, a staircase leading down into what you presumed was a lower floor or a basement.  
  
  
  
The stairway seemed like a good place to start, but you were distracted by a noise from the hallway in front. A gentle voice sang sweetly, along with clanging metal and the roar of flames. You hummed at the noise, puzzled, but your feet were carrying you towards the sounds before your brain processed why.  
  
  
You recognised that voice, so peaceful and matronly. The one who saved you. You smiled to yourself as you drew closer to the melodious singing. You barely registered your surroundings as you passed under an archway, through a dining area and into a tiny kitchen.  
  
  
A large, white furred being stood with their back to you. You could make out small horns protruding from atop their head and large white ears flopped as the figure swayed to their tune. They wore a royal purple dress-robe and you could see a pink polkadot apron tied about their waist. The figure moved deftly about the tiny kitchen, clattering pans and spatulas into the worktop sink and occasional peeking into the oven, a plume of steam escaping the open door. They turned on an oven timer, dusting flour from their apron with large pawed hands and suddenly turned around.

  
  
Their singing stopped as their eyes met yours, snout opening in shock as they let out a gasp. The unexpected movement broke the hypnotic spell you were under and you jumped in fright.  
  
They were taller than you by a couple of feet, and their mass of white bulk and fur made them appear even larger. Wide doe eyes stared at you and their expression softened, though their sheer size still intimidated you.  
  
The being took a step towards you and you panicked, taking a quick step back, only for your foot to land on a dropped oven mitt. Your leg was sent skidding out from underneath you and your body crashed into the wooden panels of the floor. You let out a cry. Instinctively you crawled underneath the dining table for shelter and curled into a ball as the creature came closer, sobs making your chest heave, and you covered your face with your arms. Your breathing was shallow and rapid, your lungs unable to pull in enough air.  
  
  
“Oh my dear, I am terribly sorry!” Their voice feminine and quiet. The figure took a step back as you cried, unsure of how to help.  
  
  
  
“I did not mean to scare you.”

  
  
The words scrambled in your mind.  
  
Someone else has said that to you before.  
  
  
  
_Liar_.  
  
  
  
You cringed into your knees and let out another bleating weep.  
  
  
  
“Hush now, you are safe. No one will hurt you here. I will protect you.” As you let the tears flow a soothing hand rubbed at a part of your back that peaked out from under the table. Your breathing became slow and even. Soon cries turned into an occasional whimper or ragged breath in but you let yourself be calmed by the stranger once more.  
  
Tears slowly dried upon your cheeks as you sniffled and uncurled from your position on the floor. Embarrassment crept up your bones at your overreaction and your cheeks flushed. Cursed paranoia making you act irrationally. You exhaled slowly, releasing the anxiety.  
  
The person stood, walked quickly to the kitchen and soon returned, tapping something upon the table top above you.  
  
“Please put your trust in me. Everything is okay, dear. We spooked each other unexpectedly and you panicked, which is a very natural reaction.” They spoke like a mother reading minds and reassuring a child frightened by a storm.  
  
“When you are ready, there is something for you on the table.” They said calmly, “Though I have mostly healed you, you need to get your energy back, dear one, as you have been asleep for a very long time.”  
  
  
  
You poked your head out from under the table, watching past chair legs as the person sat down in a large armchair by the fireplace. They sat for a while, clacking knitting needles together to form a wooly blue rectangle row by row. Occasionally they would peek down at you, smiling gently before returning to their work.  
  
The repetitive motions and the gentle ticking of the needles made your eyelids droop slightly and gave you time to think. The being had helped you, fixing your ailments and stilled your buzzing mind along the way. There seemed to be no motive for them to hurt you after putting in such effort to heal your injuries. You aimed to be kind to everyone, hoping your actions were louder than just words, and you wanted to repay the kind stranger with your trust. It may be a slow process, but you were more than willing to try.  
  
  
You ducked towards the wall, putting the table between yourself and the knitter, and pulling yourself up to an oversized wooden dining chair. The furniture in this room was much larger than the bedroom you had awoken in, you thought as you legs dangled off the chair, feet unable to touch the floor.  
  
A slice of pie had been left for you on the table. The crust was a perfect golden brown, the filling thick and sticky. You picked up the fork, glancing over to the stranger who continued knitting, and you took a small bite. It was delicious, for lack of a better word. Sweetness of butterscotch balanced out perfectly by the heat of cinnamon and the crust held a slight crunch, all sitting upon a chewy soft base. You made a pleased noise, biting into another forkfull as you happily swung your legs.  
  
  
“Are you enjoying the pie?” The person questioned, only looking up from their knitting to catch your eye for a second. You nodded in response and took another bite. The desert seemed to energise you from the inside out, mind seeming more alert and the dullness within your chest lightened.  
  
“I am so very sorry for what you went through that, my dear. It is horrible that any monster would think of hurting a young one such as yourself.” The being sighed heavily then gasped.  
  
“Oh! Goodness, I had almost forgotten to introduce myself!” They quickly set their needles and wool on a side table and stood.  
  
“My name is Toriel,” she bowed her head and dipped into a small curtsey, "I am the keeper of the Ruins. I was making my rounds of the older caverns when I found you with... that thing…” She trailed off, deep in thought.  
  
“I did not think it would attack again.” Toriel admitted, sitting back down in defeat, “After it had attacked the last human that fell, I thought I had scared it away for good, but it appears the flower took advantage of you being injured and alone for so long. I cannot help but feel that I am to blame, perhaps if I had gotten to you qui-” She was cut off as you leapt down from your chair, bound across the room and flung your arms around her neck.  
  
You shook your head, burying it in her shoulder. Fresh tears threatened your eyes as you felt a stab of guilt and sorrow. Toriel had saved you from Flowey and healed you after carrying you away from danger. You didn’t want her to feel even a single ounce of self-loathing and you tried to hug her pain away. She carefully brought her hands up and patted you back as if she understood the meaning behind your trembling hug and incessant head shaking.  
  
“My sweet child, I do hope you are okay.” Toriel smiled and felt tears in her own eyes.  
  
The other humans that fell were uninjured when she discovered them wandering the ruins, sometimes a little dirty and no more than a scratch upon them. Sometimes the flower liked to play games, "It's easy LOVE," the flower tried to reason. But this time was different. A sick feeling twisted at her maternal instincts as she remembered you cowering in the darkness, bleeding, lost and afraid, so confused that you didn't even fight for your life.  
  
She smiled sadly, you are okay now, safe in her home.  
  
You pulled away from the embrace and rubbed at your eyes with the backs of your hands, wiping away any escaping tears. She saw the deep purple patch of bruising and scars left on your wrist, like a mark the terrible flower had left that she could not heal away. The fragmented bones had taken a while to heal and sapped most of her energy, but she felt better knowing that you were recovering quickly.

  
  
“Sit child, I have healed you to the best of my magical ability but you still need rest, and I have more to tell you.” She patted her lap and you gingerly took a seat. Her arms held you in a loose but protective circle and you snuggled sideways, leaning your head against her broad shoulder. You thought, perhaps, that you were too old to be coddled in this way, but it was comforting nonetheless.  
  
  
“This is my home.” Toriel began, “A warm haven within the cold ruins, and now, it is your home too! I would like for you to stay, and I have so much that I would like to share with you." She talked excitedly, “I have books and games to keep you entertained, you could make friends with the local Monsters and once you have fully recovered, I have an educational syllabus to help keep your mind sharp.”  
  
You thought that staying within the walls of Toriel’s home was much safer than being out there, stuck in long dank hallways between rocky caves. You would have to attend some kind of schooling again, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Yet, something deeper than guilt and fear gnawed at you:

How would you get home?

How long would you want to stay here?

 

  
Did you even _want_ to go back home?

 

  
Toriel spoke up again, breaking you out of a spiral of thoughts.  
  
“However, you are somewhat older than the others, nearly an adult if I would hazard a guess, so perhaps I would need to write up something a little more advanced?” She pondered aloud, mumbling to herself about book reports and asking a door for a basic physics curriculum.

  
Toriel had mentioned these ‘other humans’ and ‘monsters’ more than once, but she was the only other being you had encountered after Flowey.

  
“Wh-who?” You asked and gave a cough, your throat sore and voice cracking from disuse. She looked towards you with a shocked expression and then her muzzle opened into a broad smile.  
  
“My dear, you do not need to speak if you do not wish to.” Toriel patted a hand upon your leg sympathetically and you gave a small nod. It wasn't that you couldn't or didn't speak but simply chose not to. You rarely spoke, but sometimes held long conversations with those you were comfortable around. Selective mutism, you recall some professional saying many years ago, but you simply thought of it as a choice, not a condition.  
  
  
“Though I am afraid I do not understand your question. Would you like some paper and a pen to write with?” She asked but you shook your head.  
  
  
“Oth-ers..?” You spoke up and Toriel’s eyes glittered with a twinge sadness, as if she was expecting the question but too afraid to answer.  
  
  
“Oh, I see... I suppose I should explain a little more about the Underground.” She spoke softly, slowly, “There are thousands of monsters here, in a huge range of shapes and sizes. You see, monsters are made of magic and hold many different magical abilities. Personally, I utilise ancient fire and healing magic, whereas others may control water or summon defensive tools.” She held out a paw to demonstrate and a small plume of fire puffed up, disappearing as quickly as it appeared.  
  
“Despite our magic, we are all trapped here underneath the mountain. Humans and Monsters once coexistenced peacefully, but distrust and fear sparked a war that resulted in human mages trapping us in these caverns, sealing us in.”  
  
You place one of your hands on her own, giving a comforting squeeze.  
  
“We have been down here for so very long, and I _will_ cover this in one of your history lessons someday, but..  there is no way out. A magical barrier keeps us all trapped, with no way to leave. Even our greatest scientists and alchemists could not break the barrier. They say human souls could tear it down, but that is another talk for another day I am afraid. We are content here, mostly, though we all know that it would be nice to be free. It is the hope for the future that keeps us going.”

  
She smiled sadly and pulled you closer into her lap, “Occasionally, a human will fall. After the first, I took it upon myself to personally look after anyone else who falls, and keep them safe from harm here in the Ruins.” Her brow furrowed, “I have been told that up on the surface, our race has turned into only a myth, the knowledge of us lost through the ages. Though do not fret, young one, other Monsters are not as scary as they may appear. Most of them just want to be friends and enjoy a chat, or a cup of tea.” She fell quiet as if recalling a fond memory. You let out a series of small coughs as your throat tickled, a sudden irritation that would not leave.  
  
“Would you like something to drink?” Toriel grew concerned, “Perhaps you would like to browse the bookshelf while I brew us some tea?”  
  
You nodded and stepped back onto the wooden floor as she released you, your body feeling colder when you left her warmth.

 

  
The bookcase spanned an entire wall from floor to ceiling, organised by genre you guessed, judging from the various titles upon their spines. You hesitantly climbed up a ladder that creaked with every step but felt sturdy beneath your feet. Hundreds of books were neatly lined up together, different widths and colours laid out in a rainbow of knowledge. Ancient looking spell tomes nestled safely on the very top shelf, they looked dusty and delicate so you looked elsewhere, not wanting to accidentally damage such an old book. You were tempted to run your fingers along the row of spines but a title on a lower shelf caught your eye, “Fairy Tales From The Surface”. This one looked much more recent as the cover’s colours and text were brighter, but it appeared well read as the spine was creased with wear. You noticed this book also seemed dusty, but you pulled it from the shelf and stepped down the ladder.    
  
The room grew colder as you sat upon the floor, not wanting to take up space on Toriel’s armchair. You flipped through the pages and realised the stories were different from the tales you read as a child. Maybe they were the same at one point in time when both races lived together, but had changed once the monsters were sealed underground, varying slightly each time monsters told the stories to the next generation. Your mused on the thought, recalling how your views had changed from days ago. Monsters used to be bedtime tales, but now you were amongst them, and they were very much real.  
  
As you turned another page the large monster appeared from the kitchen, sans apron, with two steaming mugs. You quirked a brow, confused as you hadn't heard a boiling kettle whistle or stove top humming.

Oh, fire magic, you recalled with a chuckle and happily accepted the warm mug from her. Toriel smoothed her robe out and took her seat once more.  
  
You clasped your cold hands around the mug, inhaled the steam deeply and then took a sip. The tea tasted just as it smelled: floral and naturally sweet, with a deep earthy undertone. It eased the tickling cough, though did little to warm up your bones. You shivered, trying to cover more of yourself with the large t-shirt.

  
Toriel must have been watching as she spoke up after you shuddered.  
  
“Are you cold? Oh, your clothes simply are not adequate! I must apologise again, my child, I am all out of sorts today.” She leant over, holding a hand over a fresh long on the hearth. Fire sparked from under her palm and within seconds a large fire crackled along the wood, warming the room and bathing it in a yellow glow.  
  
Toriel sat back, drinking deeply from her mug and shs observed you hunched over a book, studying it intensely. The fire cast dark shadows that sharpened across your features and danced behind you.

  
“My routine is not playing out and it has thrown me somewhat. You see, when I find a fallen human child I usually lead them through the ruins, helping them solve the puzzles that are littered about the place, and guide them home. But given your grievous injuries and inability to walk, I needed to heal you as soon as I could. You must have hit your head rather hard, falling into some kind of a shock as you were unconscious for approximately two days. Most of that time I spent healing you and worrying about your recovery, but once you are feeling well enough I would like to escort you back into the ruins to show you the puzzles. Would you enjoy that?”  
  
You nodded, excited to experience the puzzling challenges, and drunk up the last of your tea. Despite being unconscious for days, you still felt utterly exhausted. You stifled a yawn and stretched your sleepy legs.  
  
“Maybe you should sleep for a while longer, my child?” Toriel chuckled, taking your empty mugs and placing them upon the table.  
  
“You need to allow yourself plenty of time to rest and recover.” She repeated, holding out a large hand and helped you stand.

  
You sleepily followed her down the hallway, fairytale book under your arm and she stopped outside of the bedroom. You weren't exactly opposed to sleeping in a childish room, it just seemed a little strange, but you were too tired to protest. She opened the door for you, patting your shoulder as you stepped into the darkness.  
  
“There are more clothes inside of the wardrobe so you do not feel cold. Granted, they may be ill fitting, but please let me know if there is nothing suitable. I will happily supply you with something of my own until I can alter pieces to your size.” Toriel smiled, waving a hand and the bedside lamp came to life.  
  
“I trust you are old enough to tuck yourself in?” You giggled as she gave a cheeky wink, “Though do not be afraid to knock on my door if you need me during the night. Generally, if I am not by the fireplace, I will be in my bedroom, which is the door right next to yours. And the bathroom is just opposite yours, in case you need that too.”  
  
She began to close the bedroom door before opening it again, peaking her head back in.  
  
“Oh dear, I am terribly sorry to keep you from your rest, but whilst I remember there is something else: if you need a drink at all I have juice, bottles of water and jugs milk in the fridge. Please feel free and help yourself to them, but do not drink the water from the taps. Unfortunately I am having issues with the water and plumbing system, perhaps a rusted pipe or something? Regardless of the cause, the water is cloudy and a little brown, so it may contain something harmful and I do not want you to become ill. I have asked a local Froggit to take a look so hopefully the problem is a temporary one.”  
  
You nodded though unsure what a Froggit was, and covered your mouth with your hand as you yawned again. Toriel opened her mouth to speak, closed it and let out a small “hmm."

 

“May I ask you a question? Only if you are comfortable answering it, of course.” She asked sheepishly, lowering her eyes as she fidgeted in the doorway.

You nodded and her eyes lit up.

 

“Dear, what is your name?”

 

Your throat squeaked, but sounded much better after the warm floral tea. Your voice twinkled like the music box playing behind you.

 

“Grace.” You replied softly, staring at the book in your hands.

  
  
“Thank you, Grace. What a beautiful and apt name.” She answered so genuinely, complete compassion in her voice, but holding onto a strange undertone of loneliness.

 

“I do so appreciate you being here. Despite the circumstances, I am glad to meet another kind soul.” You couldn't help but wonder how long she had been alone and where the other humans were.

 

“Well, that was all. I shall leave you be. Goodnight, dear Grace.” The bedroom door clicked as it closed, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

  
You clambered into the bed, leaning over to switch the lamp off until you saw something familiar. Your bag sat half in front of the wardrobe, half tucked under the bed, and you reminded yourself to open it in the morning.  
  
You rolled onto your side, placed the book underneath your pillow and pulled the piles of blankets up to your chin. Sleep made your eyelids heavy and pulled your mind into a comfortable state of fuzziness.  
  
It didn't take long for you to fall back into a deep sleep.

  
  
You dreamt of puzzles, hot tea and trampled golden flowers.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire work should be renamed "Why You Shouldn't Write At 3 In The Morning." Hehe
> 
>  
> 
> This was a a long chapter and reader now has a name, Grace! I decided to add a name to help build the character as opposed to an empty, boring slate. Substituting in a name also makes the writing flow better than the constant jarring use of "you", "Y/N" or "____".
> 
> Personally I find they really breaks immersion whilst reading, but hopefully this change doesn't put anyone off reading! It's only a small change :)


	6. Dirty Bath Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally go down the stairs.

You spent the majority of the next day sleeping. Often you'd wake up with all the blankets kicked down the end of the bed, sweating, panting and crying after a nightmare, but you still felt so heavy from exhaustion that you pulled the sheets over yourself and fell back to sleep. You snored yourself awake several times, much to Toriel’s amusement but not to your own. She would mention for weeks afterwards, faux annoyance in her voice,

“-and then I heard this mighty grumbling, like a stray Vegetoid had gotten into the refrigerator again to complain about my lack of healthy food. I was terrified when it roared again! And when I pressed my ear to the wall that joins with Grace’s, I realised that the noise was her snoring and shouting in her sleep. How can such a small thing make such a huge ruckus!” She laughed whilst retelling the story to the Froggits checking the house’s plumbing.

When you woke up after your first day in bed, you decided to clean up. Your hair was feeling greasy and uncombed, and you smelt like stale nightmares after hours of sweating in bed. Toriel had improvised when it came to bathing, not wanting to risk contamination by the bad water. She had gallon drums collecting the rainwater that fell from the surface, trickling through the many holes in the mountain and straight underground. The layer of rock seemed to filter it mostly, but the result was much more desirable than a bath in brown, metallic smelling ooze.

“They use less water than filling up the tub!” Toriel had reasoned from outside the bathroom door, as you stood under the makeshift shower. Without heating the water would be cold, but at least you would be clean.

The water was frightfully colder than expected and though you had braced yourself, you still yelped as the first drops hit your skin. You lathered soap into your skin, scrubbing hard with a pumice stone as if that would remove the dirty feeling your night terrors had left behind. Freezing water cooled your raw skin and you massaged your scalp with your fingers.

Bloody shampoo ran down your body, matted pieces of hair and crusted blood swirled at the drain. You must have hit your head rather hard, you thought, rubbing at a tender scar that sat on the hairline near your ear.

 

“Don't be too much longer, dear.” Toriel called.

 

“Okay!” You replied, coughing when water dripped into your mouth. The cold water was beginning to create phantom pains in your wrist. You scrubbed for another minute, bubbles flowing with the water over your goose-bumpy skin. The water finally ran clear and you twisted the lever to stop the shower.

 

Droplets hit the smooth tiled floor as you grasped around for your towel, staring at your reflection in the floor length mirror. Your skin was ashy and the puffy bags under your eyes made it seem like you needed more sleep.

You padded back into ‘your’ room, towel wrapped around your body, and you pulled open the wardrobe. Dresses, longjohns, t-shirts, a pair of thick snow mittens, jeans, a fraying scarf and a bag that seemed to contain dress up clothes. Not much, you thought to yourself, and they all look a bit too small. You'd make do for the time being, pulling on a pair boxers, scratchy, stretchy jeans that worked as cut offs and a large grey sweater.

You threw your towel into a hamper by the door and moved to join Toriel in the dining room. As usual, she was sat in her armchair, knitting. The blue rectangle she was working on grew and grew as you spent the next few hours reading at the table.

“My dear, how are you feeling?” She spoke up. She had soon realised you were one of few words, but spoke enough for the both of you.

You looked up from the book, another children’s story about magic lamps, mermaids and damsels in distress. You gave a half hearted shrug.

“Okay, I suppose.” you mumbled, pulling the neck hole of the sweater up to you chin and around your mouth. Today you wanted a quiet day. You needed time to think.

 

She nodded, satisfied with your answer and continued to knit.

 

Several days passed uneventfully, following the same routine: waking, breakfast, exercise and stretching, chores such as sweeping or cleaning the kitchen, bathing, dinner, time for games and entertainment, your last meal of the day, cups of tea whilst enjoying ‘quiet time’ where you read, and finally bedtime. And then it would all happen again the next day. And the next. And the next. Occasionally you would bake together, or help tailor some clothes to fit you. It felt good to sew again, the repetitive motions were therapeutic and you often found yourself lost in a project.

Toriel would spend all day talking to you, asking questions that you would occasionally answer or just chatting about nothing at all.

You grew more comfortable with her presence and talked more and more. Some days you didn’t feel like it, but others, you couldn’t stop! It was a nice change, having someone around for you to open up to, but they also appreciated that you didn’t want to talk sometimes.

Two weeks later, during ‘quiet time’, your curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you spoke up.

 

“Toriel… Where are the other humans?”

 

Her knitting needles slipped across one another and she dropped them, the chain of wool unraveling several rows until she gathered everything up in her arms.

“Oh dear, it seems that I’ve made quite a mess of this,” She chuckled nervously, and you weren’t sure whether she was talking about her crafts or her reaction to your question.

“I’ll need to buy some more yarn to finish this project, and I should fetch groceries whilst I’m out!” She rambled, thinking she had thoroughly distracted you from her lack of answer. Her attempts were unsuccessful. Toriel scooped up her purse and called out a quick

“I will be back shortly, my child. Take care.” before rushing out of the front door, still holding her needles and wool.

You sat back on the large wooden chair, somewhat shocked but mostly irritated that she had dodged the question and ran away. Was that a bad sign? Your mind went to the worst possible answer, but you tried you best to remain positive and not hold it against her. She must have a reason to act so scattered, afterall.

 

Jumping down from the chair, you immediately ran towards the stairway. Toriel was very lenient, not treating you like a child but laid out boundaries when you grew too stubborn about certain aspects about life Underground. The only thing absolutely forbidden was going downstairs.

 

“The caves below are dangerous,” She reasoned when you first asked where the stairs led, “There may be a collapse at any time, so it is safer to stay well away.”

 

But something about her tone of voice, and the way she looked straight through you as she spoke made the entire situation feel… wrong.

You would dream at night about going down the stairs, walking down long dim tunnels and just as you'd discover what was at the end, you would wake up, thoroughly underwhelmed and disappointed. Occasionally, a little voice inside your head would compell you to go down the stairs, but you needed to be alone without fear of getting caught. Now was a prime opportunity to do so.

The long tunnels were exactly as you had dreamt: smooth walls painted a deep purple, clear floors and sharp corners that turned at precise right angles. The further you walked, the colder it grew and you crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing at your skin.

You huffed in annoyance. The tunnel seemed well maintained, if a little dusty, but there seemed to be no threats of cave-ins. What reason did Toriel have for lying? The only things down here were cobwebs, all of which held flyers for a spider bake sale. You scooped up a flyer, reading the fancy script.

“A fundraiser for Spiders trapped in the Ruins, to reunite the entire family with the clans living in Hotland.” You read aloud.

You suddenly felt a breeze at your feet, the cold air nipping your toes broke you from that train of thought. You turned another corner and were greeted by large stone doors. Brown skeletons of leaves were trapped underneath the doors, fluttering in the air whistling through the gap. The stone was as ornately decorated as the first archway you walked under after your fall. You could only assume they were all built at the same time. You brought a hand up to the chipping surface, running your finger down the seam. The doors held no keyhole or handle, and seemed too heavy to force open.

 

“How curious. I wo-” You pondered, voice echoing around you. You heard the front door slam and the words died in your throat.

 

“I’m home, dear!” You heard a far off call. Your feet slapped against the ground as you ran, skidding around the sharp corners and up the wooden stairs.

 

Toriel stood motionless by the front door, half stooped unloading grocery bags from her arms.

 

“My dear, what were you doing down there?” She dropped the bag in her hand.

“I- I, uh, I.” You balled your hands into fists, fidgeting in nervous anticipation when you felt the flyer crunch in your palm.

“What is this?” Your voice sounding harsher than intended as you stuck out an arm towards her, flopping the crinkled paper about.

She grasped the paper as read it slowly.

 

“I am afraid I do not understand, my child. Would you like to know about the bake sale?” She spoke slowly as if she truly did not understand your frustration.

 

“No! The part where it says ‘trapped in the Ruins’!” You waved your hand in the paper's general direction. “What does it mean, trapped? And where’s Hotland? Is that where the other humans are?” Your voice growing shrill as you continued.

 

“Please, calm dow-”

 

You cut her off, anger strained your voice and exasperation hot on your cheeks.

“No, I will not calm down! I have been here for weeks, Toriel, and you have been nothing but doting, but you haven't answered any of my questions. Not a single one! I still don't know what the barrier is. I don't know where the other humans are. I don't know where that door leads and I don't know what you're trying to protect me from!”

Your breath came out ragged from the unrelenting anger that had suddenly bubbled out of you.

 

“Asgore.” Toriel whispered, her shoulders sagged. “I’m protecting you from Asgore.”

 

“What’s Asgore?” You questioned, feeling more lost than before and almost guilty for the sudden explosion of emotions.

 

“Enough, child.” She held up a large paw to silence you, steeling herself. “Go to your room.” Her voice was cold, eyes glittering in sadness as you glared back, defiant.

 

“Now!” She commanded and you stomped away. Bitterness rose in the back of your throat and you grit your teeth as your temper flared again.

You looked back as you stood in your bedroom, about to slam the door. Toriel stood where you left, slumped forward, looking small and defeated. She wiped a paw across her face as she sighed.

 

“I- I’m sorry.” You mumbled sadly, only half hoping it was loud enough for her to hear. Frustration tainted your anger and you felt pinpricks flush across your eyes.

She nodded, not looking back and walked into the kitchen.

Tears dribbled down your cheeks as you closed and locked your bedroom door.


	7. Changing The Locks

Silent sobs shook your entire body. You weren't sure how long you cried for but your energy waned with every snivel and sniffle. Your shoulders heaved as you buried your face in your hands. You felt betrayed by the person who had taken care of you for so long. She had lied to you and withheld information about something that was so important; your potential freedom.

You heard movement in the hallway. Toriel walking then stopping outside of your door. For a moment, a hesitant shadow was cast under the door but she continued to her room, clicking the door shut.

You wept, tears making your hands slick as you roughly palmed at your eyes.

Your chest stung as you realised that you couldn't stay any longer. The pain of deceit was too much and you didn't want it to happen again.

You always held yourself to a personal standard: to be helpful, kind and forgiving. But something about the situation turned your stomach, and even you couldn't forgive it easily. Your morals trembled when you thought about staying to rebel against your conscience. You adored Toriel, she was a warm light in a dark, dank place, but you needed to go. Something deep within cried out, a need to keep moving forward, _urging_ you on.

You let out a ragged sigh, chest shuddering with each breathe when you realised how much this would hurt Toriel, but your need for answers drove you onwards, a plan forming in your mind. Maybe it was cruel to leave so suddenly and you cringed, conflicted once again. You would leave her a note to explain, perhaps too cowardly to say it to her face.

You wiped your face with you sleeve, tears darkening the material. You pulled your bag up and tipped the contents onto the bed.

“Inventory.” You mumbled, grabbing your notebook and a pen and jotting down a list of your supplies:

A compact mirror, mascara, lip balm, deodorant, your purse and coins, another pen, a sewing kit with extra thread, buttons, a pack of biscuits, a pair of slippers, a comically terrible romance novel-

 

You paused, a sudden jarring thought came to mind. Before the fall, where were you going that required slippers, extra clothes and bad novels? You took a step back, your mind grasping for any memories. Were you heading to a sleepover? But with who? Blank faces swam in front of you as you tried to recall that day. Waving to an unrecognisable figure stood by a gate, speaking on the telephone to a voice you couldn't place, then taking a shortcut across the mountain hiking trails. You couldn't even remember what you had left behind. Chills ran down your back like cold fingers, and you felt even more determined to find answers. You let out the breath you were holding and continued writing.

You carefully repacked everything in your duffel bag and turned to the wardrobe. You weren't sure what to pack, but judging from the breeze through the door it would be cold out there. You pulled out pieces that were lightweight and easy to carry. Then you added thermal pants, some too-large tshirts, and the only other pair of shoes that fit you comfortably. You stuffed extra underwear and socks into the spare shoes and rolled everything in a blanket from the bed. The bag was looking rather full, but you also needed food and water for your journey. You weren't even sure how long it would take, so you packed resourcefully.

Hastily, you pulled on another t-shirt over your long sleeved one, a large sweater and stuffed your feet into your shoes. Carefully, and very slowly, you opened the door. The house was quiet and dark, the ticking clock in the hall told you it was approximately 1am.

 

Toriel should be asleep now, you thought, but stepped outside quietly. You dashed into the bathroom to grab a sliver of soap and an old wash cloth. Your steps were soft against the wooden floor as you made your way towards the kitchen, bag hefted over your shoulder.

The fridge had been freshly restocked but you still felt torn about taking things. When you first arrived Toriel had spoken at great length when you showed apprehension in taking food or drinks.

“You do not need to ask, as this is your home now, so you are entitled to as much as you want or need.” She had spoken so softly and patiently.

The water in the house was still broken, but bottled water and juice lined the fridges doors. You shoved several bottles into your bag and bundled a small amount of fruit and cheese in plastic wrap. You opened cupboards, taking cans and preserved foods. You tested the weight of the bag every now and then, suddenly very grateful for the heavy duty straps that crossed around it.

Even though you thoroughly detested the idea of having to use it, you grabbed a small folding knife from a cutlery drawer. It was better to be safe than sorry, you rationalised pushing the knife and a box of matches into your pockets.

You checked everything off your list and tore out your note for Toriel, leaving it upon the kitchen table. You slid the notebook into your bag and secured the bag across yourself once more. You paused at the bookshelf. Guiltily, you pulled out a small and familiar book from a low shelf. It was light in your hand, well thumbed and the cover faded, but it was the first book you had read here, “Fairy Tales From The Surface”.

With a little difficulty you stuffed it into your front pocket and continued on down the stairs. It was much darker now, the flickering lamps that lined the tunnel walls were dim and offered little assistance. It was so much more eerie, and knowing that it would be not light for a few more hours made your knees quake. You now associated darkness with sleep and that often meant nightmares of sharp, painful pellets and grotesque flowers.

 

With many slow, deliberate steps, you finally reached the door. Your bag puffed dust and leaves around as it touched the floor, breeze whining across the tough synthetic material. You leant against one of the doors, pushing all your weight against the stone to try and budge it open. No such luck, the rock barely moved. You tried for several minutes, alternating doors and groaning in effort.

You slouched, panting from the strain, and you began running you hands along the walls to see if there was a switch or lever that opened the doorway. You sighed, decided to take a break before defeat set in.

Quiet tapping of feet echoed down the corridor and you froze, eyes darting around, but there was nowhere to hide.

Toriel’s large figure came around a corner, silhouetted, the lamps causing an aura around her.

“M- My child.” She sobbed and your heart squeezed tightly in your chest.

“I am so sorry. Please do not leave. I just wanted to protect you.” She came closer and you could see light reflecting from the tears caught in her fur.

“I can't stay.” You whispered and hugged your arms around yourself.

“My dear, tell me about your family in the surface.” The change of topic made you look up quickly. Cogs in your mind whirred in effort.

“I don't remember. I can't remember anything from before I fell... Why is this happening?” You let out a small, pathetic whine and held yourself steady.

“I know. I understand. The other children all said the same thing; only vague memories of the surface but not a single clue as to what they had left behind.” The monster sighed and looked to the floor.

Something flared up within you, slow and burning.

 

"Where are the other humans?” Your words thick with bitterness.

Toriel let out a wail and held her head in her hands.

 

“They're _dead_!”

 

Her cry rung in your ears, echoes repeating those horrible words again and again.

 

“They were the same as you, forgotten lives upon the surface. So young, mere children. They were happy until they realised something was missing, and they went off searching for answers that I didn't have.” She continued talking, pausing only for ragged breaths and sniffles.

“The King- King Asgore killed them all. He wants their Souls to break the barrier. But his plan cannot be allowed to succeed. It is barbaric, unjustifiable!”

You stepped back, horrified.

“They were children!” You shrieked, throwing your arms down in fury. "Tiny, innocent children."

“And that is why I cannot let you go. You are still so young and have a full life ahead. Every human that has left my care has died and had their Souls taken away. Asgore has plans to kill every human that falls in an attempt to free the monsters." She pled, eyes sparkling and cheeks damp.

"You are not safe. So please, come back upstairs.”

“Isn't there another way? Any other way to free everyone that doesn't involve _maiming_ _children_?” Tears began to pour. “I need to at least talk to Asgore, change his mind! We can figure something out, I'm positive.”

“My child, there is no reasoning with him. As soon as you step out of the Ruins, you will be hunted and killed.” Toriel shook her head.

Your voice croaked and you so desperately wanted to be quiet but something light fluttered in your Soul, urging you onwards, like a hummingbird's wings thrumming against the inside of your ribs.

“Then I'll run. I'll hide. I'll even fight if I'm forced to,” Toriel’s face lit upat your words, “But I need answers and I need to help everyone down here and stop this violence.”

Everything around you grew dark, lamp light fading, and you worried you were on the verge of passing out from your frantic breathing.

“You are always so strong, my dear, and so stubborn,” Toriel chuckled, “But you need to prove that you are strong enough to leave. Prove to me that you are able to withstand the struggles that may unbalance your morals; the conflicts that could make you lose track of your integrity. Prove that you can be unyielding, and fight me.”

Your chest pulled forward by the invisible thread and your breath left you as the shining blue heart appeared in front of you once more.

Toriel stood tall, a white heart blazing in a fierce glow.

 

“I don't want to fight you, Toriel, I just want to talk.” Your instincts flowed to thoughts of running away, hiding.

“No, that will not work. You need to stand up and fight back. I know you want to help, but I am the only one protecting you."

She raised her hand and a hail of fireballs rained upon you. You screamed, dodging left and right to avoid being burnt. A fireball caught across your arm and you hissed in pain.

“I'm not fighting you! I just want to talk. I just want answers!” You repeated and yet another storm of fire fell down. You narrowly missed a shot to the head, curling around to protect your blue soul from further injury.

Toriel stared through you, eyes cold in the light of the fire.

“Please Toriel, you've been nothing but kind to me. I have no way to repay everything that you've done for me, except with kindness of my own. You're doing this to protect me, like you protected the others, and that makes you so incredibly strong. So I know you'll be okay without me here, and I'm strong enough to be okay without you by my side.” Your soul splashed a shimmering blue light through the tunnel, painting the door beautiful hues.

“I'm not leaving because I'm unhappy here, I promise. I’m not sure I even _want_ to go back to the surface now because I can't even remember who’s waiting for me, or even if there's anyone. Regardless of what I've left behind, now I just want everyone down here to be free! The surface is incredible and I know you'll love it. Everyone will!”

The force of a giant hand pushed you backwards, your shoulder hitting the door with a painful thud.

“Please, go back upstairs. I want to save at least one child.” She sobbed again and a wave of fire rushed towards you. You rolled out of the way just in time, scorch marks dotted across the stone door.

“I don't need to fight you to prove that I'm ready and able to do this.” Your body shook, backed right up against the door.

“I'm so used to my actions speaking for me, but everything has changed. Instead of fighting, now is the time for me to talk; to speak up and ask for you to, please, believe in me.”

 You wanted Toriel to be free from the violence that she tried to protect everyone from. You just wanted her to be happy. 

 

“If you leave, you need to run. Keep going. Do not stop until you have crossed the Barrier and do not let Asgore take your soul. I do not want you to be the fifth lost child.”

 

The light slowly grew brighter around you, your aching soul vanished into your chest.

 

“Find a way to freedom, either for yourself, or for everyone if you can, but do not allow yourself to be compromised whilst trying to reach your goal.”

Toriel rushes forward and pulls you into a tight hug.

“Please, be good, my sweet Grace. Have fun. Make friends. But most importantly, be safe.”

She pulls away, and loosely wraps something soft around your neck. Your hands stroke the soft blue wool of the long scarf and you feared you would break down when more tears threatemed to slip passed your eyes. You sniffed rather ungracefully and Toriel rubbed the wool along your cheek.

“Th-thank you, for everything. You've been like a mother to me. I'll try and make you proud.,

You grabbed your bag and slung it across your chest. With a flick of Toriel’s wrist, the doors began to open. Harsh grinding noises of stone on stone echoed alongside a gust of cold air. You could see another open archway further along the tunnel, and what looked like moonlight streaming in. You took a few steps and looked back.

 

“I will miss you.” Toriel called, “But please, spare my heart the ache, and do not come back.”

 

  
You faltered, but turned towards the rush of nighttime air. A few more steps and your shoes were crunching along crisp, white snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a lot more dialogue heavy than usual. Fun fact: I didnt actually intend to create a narrator that doesn't speak much. It just happened, heh.
> 
> So if you couldn't guess from this chapter, the reader/Grace is the navy blue Integrity soul that I imagine was one of the later humans to fall, before Frisk.


	8. Slept Like A Log

Even though you were underground with no glimmering sky or even a sliver of moon, you could feel a pre-dawn chill within your bones.

The forest was dulled in blue hues, muted in stillness and seemed utterly devoid of life. You expected to accidentally disturb some animals with your noisy stumbling through the snow, but all was quiet. You couldn't hear cries of hunting birds or shuffles of nocturnal creatures.

The sky had lightened ever so slightly as you trundled along, feet smushing against perfect snow puffs. You purposely avoided the empty path through the center of the wood, choosing to walk through the trees, keeping the clearing parallel and just in view. You didn't want the risk of being spotted easily and felt much more at ease navigating through the trees. The rows and rows of towering dark trees granted some protection from the wind but were spaced out enough for you to see ahead. 

Most of the umber trees seemed to be of the same species, impossibly tall with huge circling bases, and their canopies beginning near their lofty tops. Others were much more stout and rich with green, shedding pine needles that carpeted underneath the snow and tinged the air an earthy sweetness.

As you clumsily walked through the calf high snow, you were reminded that if any monsters you came across were hostile, escape would be very difficult. The terrain was new to you and not knowing what lay ahead threw you off.

 

You stopped to lean against a dead trunk with one hand, the other kneading at your sore back, and you tried to catch your breath. The thick mittens that you scavenged from the wardrobe scratched against the rough bark, splintering a top layer of the dry wood. You huffed, and bundled yourself up again. The scarf Toriel had made for you could easily wrap around your neck three times and you happily buried your face in the soft wool. Your felt surprisingly warm, swaddled in layers of clothes, and your hot breath clouded behind you.

The sky grew lighter still and you checked the clunky watch around your wrist. Cold bit at your exposed skin and you tugged your sleeves back down. 3:28am. You stepped over a trees root and studied its base. Your arms wouldn't fit around the trunk if you tried. A jagged circle seemed carved from the trunk by the elements and time, the center looked dry and hollowed out in age.

The large hole sat at eye level and you reached in, scooping out debris and small flakes of wood. No bugs or small animals scurried from the hole as you pulled out leaves and you furrowed your brow.

“How unusual.” you mumbled; breath fogged, dispersing through your scarf and into the air.

You kicked layers of pristine snow from the ground, scooping up handfuls of the mostly dried pine needles and placing them in the hole. You smoothed out the layer and snorted at the absurdity of your new bedding.

You dropped your bag’s strap into the crook of an arm and began hefting yourself into the hollow. A broken branches stump sat conveniently underneath the cavity, giving your feet purchase on the wood.

After minutes of awkward shuffling you sat victorious in the hollow. Your back and shoulders were a little hunched but you were completely covered from the wind and gratefully not sleeping upon the ground. The needles somewhat cushioned the jagged floor, but occasionally stabbed through your clothes as you wriggled and you held back yelps of surprise.

You hung your bag upon the branch stump, patting it into place. If you had to leave or needed something quickly, it was easy to reach. You smiled with chin on your knees and pulled your legs closer, studying the world outside of your hollow.

 

As intimidating as the situation was, you couldn't help but enjoy the moment peace in absence of noise.

Exhaustion took over once more, legs aching from all the walking, and your eyes fluttered closed. You rested your forehead on your knees, letting the quiet of the woodland pull you in.

Somewhere in the Ruins, Toriel cried herself into an uneasy sleep, cuddling up to the blankets in your room. She dreamt of peaceful silences by the fireplace, warm hugs and baking together one last time.

 

-

 

A shriek pierced the quiet morning and you awoke with a jump, hitting the side of your head against the hollow. You seethed, drawing in a breath between your teeth. Carefully, you stretched out your aching arms and massages your bumped temple.

 

“BUT ALPHYS’ CAMERA CAUGHT THE HUMAN EXITING THE RUINS ONLY HOURS AGO, WHERE ARE THEIR TRACKS!?” Someone let out a nasally cry. You froze at the shouting.

 

“there must have been a snow storm through the night, covering whatever footprints were left behind.” A gruff voice replied.

 

The hair of your neck stood on end. Human? The monsters were tracking you already. The thought of cameras watching you made nervous sweat trickle down your back. They hadn't caught on to your location yet and you were grateful for the snow drift. You looked down and spotted a layer of snow upon your bag.

You couldn't tell how far away the voices were. They seemed close by, but the noises could have traveled further in the cold, still air.

Preparing to move on quickly, you quietly stretched your limbs out in the little space you had, not risking a peek out of your hole. The sounds of your grinding and clicking bones were muffled by your layers of clothing as you rotated your neck and wrists.

 

“UNLESS,” The shrill voice spoke up again, “THERE ARE NO TRACKS BECAUSE THE HUMAN FLEW THROUGH THE FOREST INSTEAD! CAN HUMANS FLY? DO THEY HAVE WINGS?” They let out an excited gasp.

 

“don’t think so, bro. just two legs, like us.” The gruff one spoke, thankfully much quieter than the other as your ears not yet used to the energetic din. “c’mon, let's double back to the sentry point and see if we find anything else."

 

 

There was a disappointed sigh and the crunching of footsteps grew ever so slightly quieter. You sighed at the thought: how long had it been since the last person fell? Clearly long enough, as some monsters had even forgotten what humans looked like.

 

“I HOPE YOU'RE NOT SAYING THAT BECAUSE YOU WANT TO TAKE YET ANOTHER NAP AT YOUR STATION. WE’RE NOT GOING TO MAKE A VERY GOOD IMPRESSION IF YOU KEEP TAKING ’BREAKS'!” The assertive voice carried over as you tried rolling your ankles, but you couldn't quite make out the low reply of the other monster. They must have gotten further away. You deemed it best to stay within your shelter for a few more hours to make sure no one was lingering.

 

You wrapped your arms around your legs once more and closed your eyes, hoping to sleep for a little while longer. You tried doze off, however, your bladder had other ideas as a familiar feeling crept around your abdomen. Anxiety coupled with uncomfortable squeezing made you fidget. You didn’t want to leave in case those monsters were still around, but your restless wriggling made an urgent quake run through you.

  
“Looks like I don’t have a choice,” You whispered, easing your legs to dangle from the hollow. Your knees burnt in the way that came with sleeping in an uncomfortable position for too long. Your muscles tensed in a burning ache that made you wheeze, relieved only slightly as you swung your legs about. You bent double, popping your back whilst dusting snow from your bag and praised whatever heavens that the fabric was waterproof. You slowly lowered yourself from the edge, shoes creating a flurry of snow as you hit the ground. Hugging the tree, you peaked around one side and scanned the area around the clearing. There were no figures in the distance and you could only just make out a voice drifting from afar. It was probably the shouting one, you thought, and waited until their conversation was gone completely.

You reflected for a second, the monsters were checking for tracks, so if they came back before another storm, yours would be easy to spot against the untouched snow. You held back a guffaw as you lowered yourself onto your hands, legs trembling with your restrained laughter, and you waddled along on your hands and feet to create a more animalistic set of tracks. You trekked towards the clearing, creating false prints across the path, doubling back along the same prints and then ‘walking’ past your hiding spot. A comfortable distance from the cavity you stood, balancing against a tree and began to pull down your pants.

 

Streaming clouds funneled from your nose and mouth as you chuckled, shoulders bobbing as you imagined someone stumbling across your almost ridiculous escapades. Even if the previous monsters didn’t venture back, it was worth the effort to raise your spirits. Bodily functions relieved, though a little peeved that you had forgotten to bring toilet paper, you carefully made your way back to your hiding place. It was slow going step by step and tracing your animal footprints, but your bag eventually came into view. You frowned, the shape standing in too high a contrast with the natural surroundings for your liking. You dug out a shallow hole in the soft ground with your heels and carefully covered your bag in a pile of leaves, needles and snow. You left it buried, tucked right up against the base and pulled yourself back into the tree.

You let your legs hang from the hole, the edge digging into the backs of your knees and you thought about what to do next. The plan was to reach the barrier, but you didn’t even know how to get there. You silently cursed yourself for exiting the Ruins without asking Toriel the quickest way, or even directions. Your thoughts sobered quickly thinking of Toriel. Repeatedly you told yourself you wouldn’t think about the ache in your chest, but you couldn’t help but linger on the image of her stood in the tunnel, tears on her furred cheeks and shoulders dropped in defeat.

 

A sigh escaped you and you lifted your legs back into the hole. Digging your feet against the edge, you squeezed yourself against the back, fidgeting to find a comfortable seat. You buried your face in the crook of an elbow, forearms against your knees, and you quietly cried yourself to sleep out of view from the outside world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa yeah, I was serious about the whole slow build thing. 8 Chapters in and we've only just left the ruins. Hahaha, what am I doing? Regardless of the slow pace, I'm having so much fun writing this!
> 
> TL;DR You sleep in a tree, hear some monsters talk about you, and later you pee on a tree.  
> 10/10 would write again. 5* Highly recommend.


	9. Brandishing Branches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The end of this chapter contains the description of a past injury and mentions of vomiting.

Hours later, you let out a groggy groan as you stretched in the darkness. Your clothes stank of sweat and damp wood after being in an enclosed space for too long. The smell made you gag as you quickly stripped off the gloves and outer layers. Maybe there was stinky sap or residue within the tree's hollow too? You awkwardly wobbled, hopping on one foot as you tried to pull your pants over your shoes, but failed miserably and accidentally trod the fabric into the ground.   
  
Frustrated, you kicked your shoes off and were forced to step upon snowy, soggy pine needles.   
  
“I’m definitely changing my socks now.” You let out a hushed groan, toes squelching on melted snow. The night were colder than in the Ruins and it began to seep into your skin. You shuddered, hoping to come across a river or water source soon so you could clean off the grime.   
  
You contemplated practising attack maneuvers with a branch that you whittled into a sharp point, but soon disregarded the idea of the weapon completely when you realised that no sane being with magical strengths, or even physical strength for that matter, would be intimidated by a human with a stick.   
  
You held a disgruntled frown upon your face as you continued your internal dialogue, looking like a half-crazed, half-naked idiot in your worn boxers and thin vest in the freezing outdoors.   
  
Digging around in your buried bag, you hoped to find more appropriate clothes. You grappled with items, trying to find more to wear in layers to keep you warm. Where did you put those insulated long-johns? The ones with the comical old-timey butt flap? You stuffed your discarded clothes into the duffel, disregarding the once neat order of your supplies. Stress always caused you to be scatter-brained so you tried not to judge yourself too harshly. Your knees shook as you wound the blue scarf around your neck, scolding yourself for not taking clothes out before undressing.   
  
The snapping of a branch made you pause mid rummage, only a tiny movement of your eyes widening in fear. Adrenaline made your blood turn to ice, though your skin suddenly seemed too warm in preparation to flee. Slow, deliberate steps rang clearly in the quiet, snow compressing underfoot. Slowly, you zipped the bag, hoping the noise wouldn’t draw attention to your location.   
  
Something solid scraped across the bark of a tree a few meters away and panicked, you fled the safety of your hollow, the bag’s strap slipped completely from your grasp as you took off in a sprint.   
  
Everything was numb, nonexistent and intangible compared to your mind running one step ahead.   
  
Weaving through the trees, you balked as terror clouded everything but the trees in front of you and the pumping of your legs.   
  
More noises followed you, no matter how quickly you ducked around the forest. When the burning of your thighs made you slow, the crunching of snow underneath someone’s feet echoed close by and you picked up the pace once more. Snow kicked up from the backs of your shoes, clinging to your back in clumps.   
  
White foggy breaths tumbled out of your open mouth as you panted, veiling your face and streaming behind you. You wafted the fog out of your eyes and forced your feet sideways, skidding to a stop. The forest had abruptly thinned out around you and a deep, wide ditch lay only inches away. You used your momentum, scrabbling against the ground to turn sharply towards the clearing. You jumped across a small bridge and between the gaps of a wide log gate. Your head snapped around looking for somewhere else to hide. Lungs crying for oxygen and white spots in your vision made you slow to a jog. You could only heard your laboured panting as you stood at the sparse tree line, searching for somewhere, anywhere to shelter.   
  
  
A wooden shack and a pile of junk stood out in the open, but they felt too exposed to be useful. You had little time to make the risky choice: either continue running and quickly pass out from exhaustion, or hide and put your hope in a bluff that the shack was too obvious a place for you to use.    
  
In the distance you heard more slow footsteps across the bridge.   
  
Your socks skid on ice as you ducked under the shack’s small roof. The snowstorm had created a tall mound underneath the counter and you shoved half of the drift out of the way, just enough to conceal your body inside.   
  
Shimmying into the corner, you shied away from the wall of snow and closer into the cold, scratchy wood panels. You pulled your legs closer, mimicking the way you slept in the hollow and you leant your head into the wood.   
  
Your heart never stopped slamming in your chest or thump thump thumping in your ears. You heard footsteps coming closer, tracking across the snow-dusted clearing. You pressed your scarf and numb hands over your mouth, hoping it would stop plumes of vapour escaping from your panting mouth.   


  
“i know you’re behind my sentry point, kid.” the gruff voice said, rumbling with an undertone that made your body tremble. The monster sounded intimidating and you didn’t even want to know what they looked like. Images of Flowey’s twisted, pointy form flashed as you blinked.   


  
“at least you didn’t dive into the garbage pile,” Their deep tone drawled, “that would’ve been a rubbish hiding place.”   
  
They let out a chortle at their own joke. You curled up more as the monster took a few steps nearer.   


  
“d’ya not like jokes, kid?” You bit the insides of your cheeks, bare limbs shaking.   


  
“you seem to enjoy hiding though. or d’ya just like givin’ me the silent treatment?” This monster seemed to enjoy dragging out the process, tormenting you instead of getting it over with. A small whine escaped your throat. Your skin was taking on a hint of greyish blue after being exposed in the cold for a little too long.   


  
“i’m not gunna hurtch’ya. ‘not interested in catching humans to be honest.” You daren't move, frozen in abject fear. There were a few moments of silence.   


  
“are you even listening?”   
  
Snow started collapsing from the pile at your side, chunks falling onto your shoulder and across your legs. It felt similar to the time you knocked a full box of sewing pins across your lap.   


  
“kid, are you a ruler? because you’re measurin’ my patience.”   
  
The monster began drumming their fingers upon the counter top, the sound vibrating through the panel against your ear, drowning out the sound of your heartbeat.   
  
There were a few moments of silence as it began to snow. You tried to concentrate on the large fluttering flakes in the hopes of steadying your frantic breathing. Another pile of snow slipped into your lap.   


  
“have it your way, kid.” The monster groaned and for a moment you were worried they would drag you from the shack kicking and screaming, until you heard metal screech and plastic scraping. They had probably sat on the pile of broken electronics and junk.   


  
“i’ll just stay here until you decide to come out.”   
  
With chattering teeth, you watched the snow settling upon the solid ground.   
  
Occasionally the monster would shuffle and sigh as if to remind you they were still there.   
  
No amount of shivering warmed your bones.   
  
Your damp socks began to freeze and your anxiety stayed at an uncomfortable high, churning your stomach and prickling at your skin. Or was that from the cold?   
  
By the time the sky lightened, you couldn't really tell anymore.   
  
Eventually you heard soft snoring and the snow stopped.   
  
Even your side that wasn't pressed against the snow was raw and tingling with numbness. Your entire body was flushed with tiny pinpricks of pain as you slowly pulled yourself out from underneath the shack. Everything was moving slowly, your brain sluggish and almost inebriated as you giggled at the stupidity of your actions.   
  
You had sprinted through the forest and sat in the snow for hours, whilst only wearing undergarments, all to hide from a monster who may turn out to be as kind as Toriel.   


  
“How silly.” You snorted, delirious.   
  
A small part of you screamed that the monster could be dangerous, deadly even, but you rationalised out loud that you “needed to get your bag and get to real shelter”. The louder, slow part of your mind said they could have attacked and won at any point, but didn't, you needed to take the risk and ask for help.    
  
Your feet were unsteady beneath you, arms wrapped around yourself in a shivering embrace. You stepped up to the sleeping mass upon the junk pile. They looked relatively human, you thought, glancing across the monster as it snoozed on its side, cuddling a fan that was missing several blades.   
  
You wondered what they looked like without the large hood of their snow covered coat pulled up. You could make out a serene sleeping face in the darkness of the hood, a white cheek pressed up against the screen of a broken tv.   
  
You took another wobbling step forwards and tugged upon the sleeve of their coat like a child demanding the attention of a distracted adult.   
  
As the monster stirred, you studied the sun bleached bones of their arms and legs that seemed bright in the evening darkness.   


  
“Skeleton.” You spoke aloud, more of a statement to yourself than to address them, and the monster finally sat up. They barely registered you had woken them up as they began dusting off their coat, white boned fingers nearly blending with the snow. You gaped, watching the intricate movements of the tiny bones that made up the hand. Intrigued, you leant forward and without asking, grabbed the hand with both of yours. Their head whipped up, the force shaking the hood from their face and you obliviously continued running your fingers and thumbs across the ridges of the small bones.   
  
You twisted the hand to get a better look, momentarily forgetting the being it was attached to and their wrist gave a sickening crunch. The sound made your stomach spiral, your mind vividly recalling the feeling of your own sharp bones protruding unnaturally from the skin of your wrist and the electric pain accompanied by a dull ache. You dropped their hand and ran towards the trees.   
  
The skeleton leapt to their feet and began to chase when, much to their confusion, you dropped to your knees at the tree line, retching and heaving out the contents of your stomach.   
  
Your movements eventually stopped and you wiped your mouth on the back of your hand.   


  
“okay, I forgot humans are, eww, delicate. what the fuck?” the skeleton queried as you let out a hiccuping sob.   


  
“I think I’m sick.” Your voice was hoarse and your mouth tasted of bitter stomach acid. You let out a small whimper, fat tears spilling down your cheeks as your head fell forward.   


  
“you think so, kid?” the monster let out a pitious chuckle, took off their coat and draped it over your shivering body. 

“you make a habit of sleeping in snow?” they snorted and you finally looked up at them.   


  
“Skeleton.” You repeated as you gazed into their eye sockets, not realising you spoke outloud.   


  
“human?” The skeleton quipped, watching you carefully.   


  
“Do you want your coat back? You’re gunna catch a cold.” you began shrugging the coat from your shoulders until their surprisingly strength wrestled your arms into the sleeves as if dressing a toddler.   


  
“hey kid, knock knock.” the monster, wary of your grabby hands, shoved their own into the pockets of their baggy shorts,   
  
You slowly blinked up at them and even in your confusion instinctually replied,   


  
“Who’s there?”   


  
“snow.” A smirk appeared upon their face as if they were about to tell the world's best joke.   


  
“Snow who?” You hiccupped and swayed a little.   


  
“snow laughing matter, kid; you've got mild hypothermia.”   
  
You laughed loudly regardless, then proceeded to vomit once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oohhh, two chapters in one day? How decadent!
> 
> TL;DR Sans chases a half-dressed reader through the forest, then he falls asleep when he gets into a stubbornness contest with them, reader accidentally catches hypothermia and then pukes when Sans tells another joke.
> 
> Also, reader is a total damsel in distress who needs to be rescued by every monster they meet and I am okay with this. *swoon*


	10. Thawed

“i, uhm, i’m not an expert when it comes to human health.” The skeleton admitted quietly as they handed you a lukewarm bottle of water.

“too many unfamiliar squishy bits and organs.” They gestured wildly around the empty space under the ribcage where their stomach would be. “it’s rather foreign to me, though s’probably a lot like mammalian monster’s anatomy.” If you were in a better frame of mind, you would’ve stuck your tongue out at the comparison.

Your teeth chattered as you tried to take a sip of the water, some of it spilling down your chin. The skeleton stared at you, watching with a face contorted in a mixture of disgust and fascination. You glanced up, eyes unfocused.

“M’cold.” was all you could muster, huddling close into your damp scarf and borrowed coat.

“and the whole perceiving temperature thing is a weird concept too!” they exclaimed, pacing the circumference of the garbage pile as you sat upon the cold ground, leaning against a tree.

“oh, yeah, let’s fix that. hypothermia primarily means an extreme drop of internal body temperature due to external factors, such as cold and wind.” they spoke as if reciting from a medical journal, though you barely registered their musings or repetitive movements.

“moving you quickly could cause arrhythmia, so i’ll get you warmed up here and then you can come back to snowdin with me, to recover or whatever?”

  
By the time you sipped the last of the water, the monster had cleared the snow from under the sentry point and laid down a somewhat torn tarp from the junk pile. They commanded you to sit under the makeshift shelter and they began collecting discarded dry wood for a fire.  
Slowly you stopped shivering. You weren't sure whether the coat and warm water were helping, or your condition was worsening.

“kid.” the monster tried to draw your attention in a calm, quiet manner as they crouched on the balls of their feet beside you.

“did you hear me?”

You slowly shook your head, the small movement making you feel dizzy. You stayed still beneath the tree and you could feel yourself slipping. All of your energy was concentrated upon the empty bottle in your hands as if it was the singular point of existence that you revolved around.

“c’mon. gently now.” Strong hands grasped under your armpits, one of your arms clung feebly to their broad ribcage as you were half dragged, half stumbled towards a crackling fire contained in a large, chipped flowerpot. Their low voice was tinged with concern as they mumbled reassurances. Carefully, you were seated on the tarp inside the shack, back against the wood. An itchy blanket, probably pulled from the convenient junk pile, was tucked around you. They uncurled the now wet scarf from around your neck, tugged off your sodden socks and laid them near the fire to dry.

You shuddered into the coat again as the warmth of the fire hit you, and the monster’s permanent skull-grin faltered. Before taking a seat next to the fire, they pulled up the soft hood around your face and gave your head a gentle pat.  
  
“there we go, kid. much better.”

Through the force of habit, you pulled your knees up to your chest. You tried to wriggle about, forcing your limbs to shiver in an attempt to warm up. The skeleton fidgeted anxiously, one knee bouncing up and down as they stoked the fire, absentmindedly feeding in fresh wood and branches. They stared up into the air.

  
After hours stretched on through tense silences, you shuffled closer to the fire in the plant pot, your legs splayed out as you tried to warm your toes. Your empty stomach rumbled and the monster let out a throaty laugh.  
You smiled softly. They clearly found amusement in bodily functions they didn't possess.

The monster suddenly introduced himself as “sans. sans the skeleton”, complete with a wink and waving finger-guns. His frame visibly relaxed as you gradually withdrew from the unresponsive state. You were feeling much more lucid and your body was actually responding to the commands of your hazy brain. You realised you were still grasping onto the empty bottle, now in a sad squished state.

“Grace.” you pulled the hood from your eyes and tucked tangles of hair behind your ears. He jumped slightly at the unexpected noise.

“bless you.” his grin widened. He seemed to enjoy his own humour more than any reaction garnered from the jokes.

“Actually, I changed my mind. I’m leaving to go die in some snow.” you chided and pathetically threw the crushed plastic at him. Despite the weak aim, the bottom of the bottle spun, hitting him on the temple with a hollow ‘bonk’ and bounced over his shoulder. The lights in his eye sockets dimmed to an the infinite dark that pulled you in. For a second you worried you had offended him and opened your mouth to apologise when he abruptly dropped his head back and let out a dramatic dying screech, throwing himself onto his back.

You couldn't help but snort. He opened an eye open to check your smiling face and sat back up.

“ah c’mon kid, the delayed overreaction is usually a killer!” he crossed his legs and rested pointy elbows on the sides of his knees.

“Maybe it's because I’m not a child?” you answered simply and shrugged.

“seriously? but you’re so short!” he gestured at your entire body with an open hand. He was a lanky creature, thick bones making the silhouette even wider. You imagined everyone was small in comparison, and you weren't sure how much further you could have huddled to hide in the coat.

“wait, how old are you?” he bent forward and propped his chin upon his palms, fingers cupping along his jawbone.

You shrugged, genuinely unsure. The fall had worked a strange black magic into your mind, creating false memories and completely erasing others.

“20? Maybe 22? Or 18?”

“‘ts’a wide margin of error you got there, kid.” Sans raised a brow bone and you gave a bemused smile.

“I’ll explain later.” You waved a hand vaguely, which he accepted rather readily.

  
He took the silence that slipped over you both as a good time to place more pieces of fibrous dry bark upon the fire. You rested back against the station’s wall, turning towards the monster. You quickly studied him, not wanting to be caught watching as he were a bizarre object to gawp at. He was shaped similarly to a human skeleton, but much thicker; sturdier and held together by what you could only assume to be magic. His fingers looked pointed and you wondered if the tips of his toes were too. His skull was rounder and the surface looked smooth, almost like a pebble rounded by the sea. Sans’ face somehow appeared more malleable than skin, as he was incredibly expressive and always animated. The brow bone was a touch more pronounced and amusingly gave the look of boney eyebrows. His nasal bone ski-sloped above the soft smile that seemed to be his natural resting position, squared teeth suddenly upturned into a cheshire grin.

“you enjoying the view, kid?” he purred.

You sputtered, cheeks flushing as you were caught doing the exact opposite of what you initially intended. You were so busy staring at his cheekbones that you hadn’t noticed him glancing back from the corner of his eye.

 

“i’ve been thinking-”

“Careful: you don't want to hurt yourself.” you interrupted him. Your wits were becoming sharp again and as he stared at you, incredulous, you wondered at what point did you grow comfortable enough to talk so much around the monster. You tried to blame it on a difficult recovery and part of you hoped you were still a touch delirious.

Sans’ jaw hung open.  
“well shit, aren't you full of surprises?” he asked rhetorically.

All you could do was frown, somewhat embarrassed and too startled to respond. Cringing, you sunk into yourself and if he noticed, he never mentioned it.

“anyway, i was thinkin’,” He glared, almost goading you into interrupting again, “that it wouldn’t be very chill of me to capture you when you're ill. It’d be sick to take advantage like that.” he smirked, reverting to the worst kind of puns and wordplay.

“so it’s best if i bring ya back to snowdin, time to recover and stuff.” his gruff voice sounded almost shy.

“Wait,” You found your voice again and your heart thrummed. “I thought you said you didn't want to capture me?”

“well,” He rubbed at the back of his skull, “that’d be more of a ruse.”

“ya’see kid, my brother’s a bit of a human fanatic. wants to get into the royal guard for some reason, so he’s always waitin’ to capture the next one to impress the other monsters. but honestly? he’s harmless; just wants people t’like him.”  
You nodded along patiently.

“anyway, if a human just shows up near the town he’ll make a big thing about it, probably tell the guard captain, make you do a bunch of puzzles, so thought i’d spare us both the hassle.”

“But… What if I want to do the puzzles?” Something twisted within your chest as you thought back to your first days with Toriel.

“kid, i’m tryin’ to avoid the whole “involving the royal guard” thing.” his tone was condescending.

You bristled and your shoulders tensed.  
“I thought you were a sentry for them? Why are you doing this, helping me?”

“a few reasons. mainly because i’d rather you didn’t get killed for no damn reason.” he trailed off, muttering about your stubbornness.  
Well, that should’ve been obvious, you thought internally and nodded.

“when you were sleepin’ in your weird tree nest i was thinking: monsters don’t even remember what humans look like. no one but us would know. you could, i dunno, stick around for a while? maybe hang out with my bro? He’s good at keepin’ secrets for me.” He winked to try and disperse the tension.

You were torn. You had promised Toriel that you would make friends, but you wanted to march straight on to the barrier. You sighed and pulled the weird smelling blanket around you like a cape.

“I’ll think about it.” You offered simply and curled up.

“you’re not allowed to sleep yet, kid. you gotta stay conscious for a few more hours, at least. ‘need to make sure yo-” A tinny sounding foghorn blared from his pocket and you both screeched, flinching away from the noise.  
The tone continued until he pulled a thin mobile phone,

“shit. gotta take this.” He jumped onto his feet, clacking a thumb onto the phone to stop the noise. He walked towards the thin tree line, pressing the phone to the side of his face. You couldn’t quite make out his low conversation, though you were sure you heard a metallic squawking voice through the speaker. Your eyes slid shut.

You deliberated, allowing yourself to sink to the floor. You could take a small nap whilst Sans talked on the phone, right?

Would small interruptions continue to set you back? Perhaps this is what Toriel meant; you needed to stay strong and keep moving towards your goal. Maybe you could do just that, at a slower pace, making friends along the way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally imagine Pre-Reset aware Sans to be less serious, happier and perhaps a touch more motivated (because who would seriously put effort into anything when it would be totally reset at any unknown point in the future, making all your hard work for naught...)
> 
> Within the Undertale game, Flowey mentions that Sans "caused him a fair share of resets." Probably when Flowey gets bored and begins to kill monsters, Sans intervenes. 
> 
> This story takes place just before all those shenanigans.
> 
> Also, Sans totally has personalised ring tones for all the contacts in his phone. Papy has a ship's loud foghorn, Undyne has that stock royalty-free dolphin chatter, the dogs each have generic barking, Alphys has Godzilla's classic roar, and Asgore has a whistling kettle. I wonder what Reader's ringtone would be?


	11. The Dying Swan

“kid?” Sans’ voice was low and raspy with sleep. You snored softly as you slept, making a slight breathy wheeze as you exhaled.

“kid!” He repeated a little louder, poking you on the knee with the toe of his sneaker and you cuddled further into the corner of the sentry point.

You grumbled and withdrew an arm from the blanket, slapping his foot away. Your head pounded, limbs feeling heavy and itchy. You wanted to sleep in front of a large fireplace, surrounded by pillows and cushions. The thought started to calm you back to sleep.

He pulled the blanket from your body but you gripped on fiercly, a tired growl left you as a tug-of-war began. Sans settled a quick victory, reigning supreme with a victorious cry as he heaved the blanket from your grasp and draped it over the side of the station.

“c’mon, it’s time to get up.”

You nodded mournfully, giving Sans a grumpy pout and rubbed at your eyes with your knuckles. Pale hands dropped something solid at your side with a dull ‘thunk’. Immediately recognising the overly full duffel bag you hugged it close, sweeping snow from the sides. The noisy fabric crinkled as your soft hands brushed against the surface.

“Thank you.” Your voice muffled, smiling face smushed into the bag, though you couldn’t muster the energy to be more grateful. You retrieved a bottle of water and pieces of fruit that still felt cold after being buried in your snow covered bag. A rumble wobbled your stomach at the sight of the food.

You bit into a soft pear, juice and flesh sticking to the corners of your lips as you moaned, savouring the crisp, tart flavour. You squeezed your eyes shut and stretched out like a cat in the sun. You pushed a hand against your arched spine and your vertebrae clicked in quick succession, making you hum with relief as the tension released.

“Aah, dat felcht goob!” you said with a mouthful of fruit.

“well, that was disgusting.” Sans exaggerated a shudder and you rolled your eyes, though unsure whether he was talking about your bad manners or the crunching joints. Was that considered rude around skeleton monsters? You contemplated asking as you threw the core into the ash covered flower pot; the fire had died out several hours ago. Whistling gusts travelled through the forest and goosebumps rippled across your bare skin.

 

Layers of fresh clothes warmed you immediately, feeling somehow safer covered and protected from the wind. You handed the borrow jacket back to Sans, the material whipping around in the air. In one fluid movement Sans scooped up your bag, propped it up on one of his shoulders, grabbed the jacket and hung it over the front of your face by the hood. The fluffy lining smelt a little musty, like old books and a hint of sweat.

“c’mon kid, let's go.” he urged and stuffed his free hand into the pocket of his gym shorts, holding the bag as if it were no more than a sack of feathers.

Irritation tore through you and about to voice as much, you ripped the hood from your face, only to see the skeleton already on the move and leaving a steady trail of shoeprints in his wake. Reluctantly, you pulled the jacket on, jogging to catch up to his long strides as you pushed your arms into the sleeves.

Something uneasy settled over you whilst watched his confident traipsing. Why was he acting so nonchalant about the risky situation, even going out of his way to keep an eye socket on you. Trying to walk by his side, you took faster steps every now and then to keep up with his pace. What if he was only acting friendly and caring to lull you into a false sense of security? Your fingers felt numb at the thought. Paranoia and anxiety made your face pale.

In reality, you didn't have much choice but to follow alongside like a little lost puppy. You weighed up the options: freeze to death in the snow or play along to get food and shelter with potential betrayal around the corner. Or you could make friends and actually be happy, if this wasn't too good to be true.

 

The weight of a skeletal hand upon your shoulder made you stop in your tracks and flinch away. Sans either didn’t notice or chose not to comment.

“oh man, c’mon, this’s gunna be hilarious!"

You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you hadn't noticed the sounds on this side of the wood. Birds hidden in the conifer trees chirped happily, multitudes of sweet tweeting songs chorused by low drawn out caws. It was almost relieving to hear the woods come to life out of the clawing silence.

A wooden shed sat along the side of the path. It was built up much more solidly that Sans’ sentry station. The building was actually covered by four sturdy walls with a small hinged door built into one side, as opposed to a glorified, repurposed lemonade stand. A thick desk sat neatly at the open front of the booth, decorated with a silver press bell and a small wooden carving of an adorable dog face. Everything was covered by a thatched roof, sprinkled in snow. Half crumpled and burnt dog treats littered the ground.

Sans leaned close to you, his breath hot upon your skin as he whispered.

“follow my lead, kid. but most importantly, don’t move a muscle!” He tried to hold in a laugh, air puffing against your cheek.

You blushed at the close proximity of his face and you quickly hid in your scarf, stray fibres tickled at your nose. He loosely gripped your wrist and pulled you in front of the desk. It seemed that the kiosk was unmanned and you were thoroughly confused. Patting your shoulders as if motioning to stay in position, he stood by your side, leant over and dinged the bell.

Ever so slowly, a canine face peered out from under the desk. 

“Who’s there?” the mystery dog said, eyes darting around.

“Hmm, strange. There’s nothing.” They spoke to themselves despite you being in plain view, and then disappeared down again.

Sans snorted, ringing the bell once more and jumped back. The head popped up further, showing sloped shoulders and hands brandishing silver knives. Your heart murmured at the sight, until you realised the metal was blunted and dull.

“That noise again! Who goes there?” The dog looked straight through the pair of you, eyes narrowed in suspicion and you stayed rooted to the ground. A giggle tickled at your throat.

“Well, no one is moving. No one is there… Hmm, is someone playing a prank on me?” They barked out a grunt and squat down once more, but their ears accidentally remained above the desk. Sans seemed to be dying as he held in his guffaws, occasionally snorting through his nasal cavity and his shoulder shook with the effort.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly leant towards the booth, reaching out your hand as if to press the bell, but instead gave a quick series of pats upon the dog’s head and snapped back into position.

The dog shot up, yipping and dancing around as they exclaimed,

“Pat? PAT? I’ve been pet! Bark! Bork!” They flailed and you couldn't contain the laughter that rolled out. Sans howled at your reaction, slapping a hand upon his femur as he bent double. The dog continued their “Pot, Pat and Bork”ing, eyes widening as they finally saw your fidgeting figures.

“You again! You walking chew toy!” The dog recognised Sans and flapped their arms around, yipping louder. Sans grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you away, skipping into a run. You tried to keep up, feet moving quickly as you ran past a jolly snowman, a kiosk made from a soggy cardboard box and a frozen pond, until you eventually stopped to fill your lungs. You both collapsed into the snow, wheezing breathless laughter, taking deep breaths only to start another fit of giggles.

Eventually you calmed down, noticing the lingering sounds of the forest were drowned out by the sound of rippling water. Perhaps a river was close by so you could finally bathe. Sans sighed happily, occasionally chuckling and pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye socket.

“heh, never gets old.” His grin was wide, teeth stretching from ear hole to ear hole.

“so you notice monsters aren't as scary as they look? including me, of course. i’m clearly a bonehead.” He knocked at his skull to emphasise the terrible joke and winked at you. You watched his face move, intrigued as his bones moved like muscle.

Sans lugged the bag further onto his shoulder and realised you were still holding onto his hand. He couldn't help but wonder if the rest of your skin was just as smooth. Your warm skin was soft against his bones, his thumb brushed against the squishy pads and over tough knuckle. He memorised the texture of each ridge and scar, the warmth and tenderness.

You almost let yourself enjoy the way his pointed thumb gently caressed over your skin, but pulled your hand from his, clutching it as if in pain. Sans automatically leant away, a forced casual smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

“uh, want a nice cream?” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards a bunny monster attending a brightly coloured vending cart. They leant against the cart with ears flopped down, uninterested, extremely wrapped up in examining the claws on their hand. They saw your movements in the snow and their ears perked up, suddenly happy at the prospect of customers.

You shook your head at Sans, not wanting to make your body colder with ice cream in the snow. Even with all of your layers, your toes were getting a little soggy and you’d lost your gloves whilst being chased through the forest. Besides, you had no money.

You waved a little and gave the bunny monster an apologetic smile. Returning the wave, their face fell in disappointment for a second, before beaming back optimistically. Sans was right; most monsters were oblivious that you were human. Regardless, they seemed kind. Even if they remembered long forgotten knowledge, your recognisable human traits were hidden under layers of clothes and only your eyes peeped out atop your scarf. You could pass for a weird monster, you thought, thinking about a simple disguise to help you blend in. Though a huge variety on monsters were huddled into the same place, living peacefully, so maybe they simply didn't care about looking different.

“that’s blue. s’pretty cool. but we can always come back and chill later.” Sans grinned as he stood and offered a hand to help you up. Your thoughts were clashing, moving so fast you could barely grasp onto a coherent string of thinking. It boiled down to putting trust in the skeleton monster, or not. He would earn it. You pushed yourself to your feet and Sans’ hand wavered for a second before dropping to his side. He brushed it off and swept snow from between his lower leg bones.

 

Between the two rocky cliffs, a large bridge trembled in the canyon wind. A tall figure stood on the other side, shouting to a monster shaped like a squat bird made of ice, with a snowflake collar splayed around their head.

Sans hopped across the bridge, talking animatedly to the monsters. The monster, another skeleton, stood with their fists upon their hipbones and their crimson scarf blew triumphantly in the breeze like a cape. They towered more than a foot over Sans, who in turn could easily rest his bony chin upon your head if he so wished. This new monster made Sans seem tiny in comparison, with their gangly, long limb bones and broad shoulders.

“SO THIS IS YOUR NEW FRIEND?” They shouted down to Sans and glanced over to you, the mouth of their long skull opened into a welcoming smile. You shrunk and nodded shyly. Loud seemed to be their natural volume.

“yeah, just arrived straight from the capital.” Sans fidgeted with your bag as the other skeleton made no effort to hide the fact he was studying you.

“ARE YOU WEARING MY BROTHER’S COAT, SANS’ FRIEND?”

“uh, yeah. they ah, underestimated how cold it is in snowdin, so they didn't bring a coat. it’s no skin off my bones though; the wind goes right through me anyway.” Sans winked at you and his brother shrieked so loudly that the ice-bird monster ran away. You assumed the bird was frightened away, but they whispered “Thanks” as they darted past, leaving you perplexed.

“SANS, LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE! THOSE HORRIBLE PUNS SCARED SNOWDRAKE AWAY. WE WERE HAVING A RIVETING CONVERSATION ABOUT MY NEW PUZZLE AND YOU RUINED IT!” The tall skeleton scolded and looked away from Sans, crossing his arms with a “harrumph”.

“aww c’mon pap. don't give me the cold shoulder.” Sans snickered and the other groaned.

You were happily watching the exchange but perked up suddenly. You tugged at Sans’ sleeve, nodding furiously with a grin wide enough to match the skeletons’.

“looks like my bud wants to take a crack at your new puzzle.”

Sparkles glittered in the other monsters eye sockets. Magic was a spectacular gift you thought  

“YOU REALLY MEAN IT?” Their voice was high, as if speaking whilst holding their breath. You nodded again eagerly.

 

“IT'S SO GREAT TO MEET ANOTHER MONSTER WHO APPRECIATES PUZZLES!”

You hummed in agreement as the towering skeleton bounced, pointing out where future traps and puzzles will be set up.

“OH, OH! AND BEYOND HERE,” They motioned with both hands in a grand sweeping gesture past sharpened metal spikes that broke through the ground, to a small crop of fuzzy green flowers, “IS WHERE I WILL SET UP AN INGENIOUS TRAP! I CALL IT THE “HUMANS WILL BE SO DISTRACTED BY MY DELICIOUS SPAGHETTI DISHES FOR SO LONG THAT THEY WILL NOT REALISE THAT I HAVE SNUCK UP TO CAPTURE THEM” TRAP!” A crude side table held an unplugged microwave and half a plate of snow covered spaghetti.

“THE TITLE IS A WORK IN PROGRESS AND I HAVE YET TO WORK OUT THE FINE DETAILS, BUT NO ONE CAN RESIST MY PASTA, SO THERE IS NO WAY IT WILL FAIL! NYEHEHEHEHEH” Though the naivety of his traps was adorable, the intentions behind them were clear. Yet something in the way the skeleton carried themself, and the way they spoke with a gentle kindness made you wonder if they could actually carry out a plan to capture a human.

You and Sans were lead a few paces back from the spikes towards a much larger ice pond, shaped like a waning crescent moon. A small flag fluttered atop a large pole that had been driven into the ice. Along the shore sat a perfectly rounded snowball, about the size of your head.

“HERE IT IS! THIS IS A CLEVERLY COMPOSED RACE AGAINST TIME: THE EXIT TO THE NEXT PUZZLE IS BLOCKED BY ROWS OF VICIOUSLY SHARP, UHM, POINTY BITS, THAT WILL ONLY LOWER ONCE THE GOAL HAS BEEN ACTIVATED.” Papyrus toured you around the edge of the ice as he boasted. “THE VERY CLEVER MECHANICS TOOK DAYS UPON DAYS OF TOILING, AND IF I HAD BLOOD, SWEAT OR TEARS, THEY WOULD’VE BEEN POURED INTO EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF THE CHALLENGE! OF COURSE MY GOOD FRIEND DOCTOR ALPHYS HELPED ME WITH MOST OF THE CALCULATIONS AND BECAUSE A CERTAIN BROTHER WAS NAPPING AND REFUSED TO HELP!”

Sans gave a guilty shrug, “what can i say? i’m bone idle.”

The taller monster grimaced and seethed through gritted teeth.

“PLEASE, TRY AS MUCH AS YOU'D LIKE? SANS’ FRIEND! IT WILL DISTRACT ME FROM MY LAZYBONES BROTHER AND HIS TERRIBLE JAPES.” Their frown twitched into a smile at the small joke and Sans playfully elbowed them in the ribs, his grin ever-present.

 

You guessed the goal was to get the snowball into the hole beneath the flag, as the description of the challenge was rather vague. Taking off the restrictive coat, you thought the task at hand was relatively easy. Able to move around much more easily without the jacket, you smoothed out your large knitted jumper and made your way over to the ball. Surprisingly, the clear blue ice did not shatter like glass or even creak as you gingerly tested your weight, but with each step your feet slid in different directions. And therein lay the difficulty, you hung your head in shame for judging the skeleton’s puzzles and dismissing them as child’s play. Having been brought down a peg or two, you marched on, determination energising your aching body.

The snowball was much denser than it appeared, giving it a hefty weight, but the surface had been polished into a near glossy finish. The smooth crystals of ice glimmered in the light and you almost didn't want to ruin it. You steadied yourself, arms out wide and pushed the ball with the side of your foot. It whizzed across the surface of the pond in the complete opposite direction that you aimed for. You whined and chased after it, struggling to keep yourself balanced. After more attempts at pushing the ball towards the flag you noticed it was slowly shrinking, and as you slowly got the hang of balancing, the ball melted away into nothingness.

You stomped a foot upon the ice, frustrated, when another perfect snowball rolled from a nearby chute hidden by a bush. It stopped in place where the first ball began. Sans watched you nervously, his boney fingers playing with the strap of the bag. Worried that the strenuous exercise would be detrimental to your already ill health, he decided any sign of relapsing meant he would take you home immediately.

But he soon found himself enraptured by your soft movements, your eyes lowered to the ground, mouth open in a small ‘o’ as you concentrated. You seemed to glide effortlessly, skimming along the surface of the pond with your arm gently out by your sides. Your middle and ring fingers delicately pointed down, like a practised manoeuvre. Enraptured by your turns and jumps, the skeletons fell silent. You slid across the ice on one foot, your other toes pointed out, leg held high behind your back as you danced upon the ice moon. You lithely followed after the ball, movements fluid and strong, and your foot swung down in a smooth arc. The arch of your foot made contact with the snowball, sending it spinning, curving along the surface and just as it was about to melt, it slipped into the hole beneath the flag. A buzzer sounded and several golden coins flew out from the goal. You gathered them up as you passed by the hole.

You twirled and sped up, shoes hissing against the pond, raising your arms aloft in glory. Faster you spun, pirouetting, hopping from one foot to the other, turning yourself this way and that upon the ice and the tail of your scarf trailed behind you. Balancing on the balls of one foot, you held yourself tall in a graceful arabesque and let yourself naturally come to a stop in front of the slack jawed skeletons. You gave a small curtsey and let yourself relax. Your breaths came out in bursts of puffs and pants, rosy cheeks aching from the exhilarated smile upon your face.

Both monsters remained silent, staring at you, so you plucked the coat from Sans and pulled it back on.

“WHAT?” The taller skeleton managed to sputter out.

“kid,” Sans seemed as breathless as you were, “that was incredible.”

“AAAAAIIIIIEEEE-” They let out another shrill sound, but cut themselves off, face changing from delighted one second, then the next, fighting to remain composed.

“I MUST APOLOGISE, BUT WE CANNOT CONTINUE OUR PUZZLE ADVENTURE,”

They gave a dramatic pause, you looked crestfallen waiting for a reason or explanation.

 

“FOR.”

 

“WE.”

 

“HAVE YET…”

 

“TO BE FORMALLY INTRODUCED!”

They took on an heroic pose, hand upon their puffed out chest, their scarf began fluttering without a breeze. Magic, you rationalised, but were impressed nonetheless.

“I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” He rolled his “r”s wonderfully, “FABULOUS CRAFTSMAN, SCRAPBOOK CONNAISSEUR AND AWAITING JOINER OF THE ROY- I MEAN, TRAINEE APPRENTICE IN WAITING FOR THE ROYAL GUARD AND unfortunately SANS’ BROTHER.”

To humour Papyrus, you gave a humble bow and he squealed, clapping his boxing glove-turned-mitten covered hands.

He looked at you expectantly and you froze. Touching a hand to your throat, you were still breathing hard and began clamming up, yet in the same breath, you didn't want to disappoint his endearing excitement. The white light of his eyes shrunk at your silence stretched on and a frown touched his teeth.

 

“their name is grace. heavyweight snoring champion, graceful dancer by day light and fighting evil by night.” Sans chirped up and you shot him a look that morphed from grateful to confused.

You danced? How did Sans know that you could dance?

 

Wait.

 

How had you forgotten that you could dance?

 

Papyrus’ large hand pressed against your back before you could dwell on the thought; and ushered you further along the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's been watching Swan Lake and Sleepy Beauty ballet!  
> Anyway, heres a tiny bit of fluff, and we finally become aquainted with Papy!


	12. Hummingbird Heart

More Monsters greeted your small party as you traveled across the snowy trail: tiny snow creatures that wore pointed glacial headpieces, more ice-birds, and a large school of dolphin like monsters that few over head, gently gliding and propelled along by their large ribbed wings.

You passed a bipedal bunny in a long grey coat, hefting along armfulls of shopping bags with a bouncing kit in tow. They nodded sincerely to the skeletons, who returned the gesture. Papyrus would occasionally stop to point out where he would like to place more traps, spieling off grand plans that sounded too convoluted to actually work. You weren't mechanically minded, so there was hope yet for his “Doom Bridge of Death”.

He spoke in great detail of a pressure plate maze rigged with colour coded keys, and a network of obstacles to pass through before coming to a grand finale. He refused to give further details, “ALAS, SANS’ FRIEND, I CANNOT SPILL THE METAPHORICAL BEANS OF MY TRAPS AND PUZZLES. IF ANY OF THIS INFORMATION WERE TO REACH A HUMAN, THE ENTIRE SYSTEM WOULD BE RENDERED USELESS.”

You nodded thoughtfully, beginning to see the clever shine behind his naive eyes. You wondered if the child-like innocence was an act, a simple ruse as to conceal his real intelligence. However, there was a certain way broad smiles crinkled beneath his eyes, and how his booming voice would peak out in excitement, that led you to believe at least a small part of the charming persona was genuine.

 

 

Two figures in long dark robes, with pole arms wielded against their sides stopped monsters at a natural bottleneck on the gravelly path. A handful of monsters milled around awkwardly, some grumbling about the inconvenience but still forming into a short single-file queue.

Sans paused before the line and you walked straight into his back, too preoccupied with a flash of yellow from the corner of your eye. His bulky frame momentarily hid you from view as Papyrus continued walking and talking of puzzles; oblivious. You rubbed at your sore nose after hitting it against the underside of a shoulder blade. Sans span around, his voice a hissing whisper.

 

“shit! shitshitshit. they’re royal guards. i didn't know they were being posted today!” his brow crinkled in concern and you could almost see his internal thoughts whirring as the lights of his eyes flickered around to catch an idea.

 

“oh, wait! here, let me just-” he cupped your cheeks gently, the tips of his bones cold against your skin and time seemed to slow as he brought his face close to yours. With closed eyes, he gently rubbed his cheeks against your own, nuzzling them together and smirking as he pulled away. He partially opened his mouth and for a second you saw a dim blue light behind his teeth, until he leant forward once more and licked a wet, gooey line up from the tip of your nose to your hair line. You screeched in disgust and Sans pivoted on his heels before running towards his brother, cackling manically.

Giving chase, your shoes kicked up pebbles scattering and clacking in your wake and the skeletons talked as they passed the stoic guards. Targets set on the shorter skeleton, you were just about to reach them when wide, polished axes crossed and blocked your way.

Only a hair’s breadth away from the cold metal, you gasped, breath fogging against the smooth silver surface. Your eyes flitted over the long dark handles to Sans, who only shrugged in response and smirked knowingly. The hooded figures turned to you, and the meager trust you had placed in the shorted skeleton seemed to crumble to dust. Your head hung at the realisation, chest smarting and raw with betrayal. Sans’ words wavered in your mind, rolling across the current of pain in your temples. He joked you should recover first. You thought there would be time to formulate a plan. No promises, only threats veiled in jokes and jesting. Attempts to think quicker were halted as the pain shifted to the back of your head.

If you surrendered without a fight after being lead straight to the guards, maybe the results would be quick, perhaps painless? The inevitable end would come, but you didn't want it to be right at the cusp of your journey.

You tried stammering out an excuse, eyes unmoving from their weapons. Maybe you could talk your way out, buy some time? The figures lowered their hoods, long canine snouts sniffing the air. The monsters drew closer and one finally spoke up, their voice high and feminine.

 

“Sorry about this, sweetie. It’s just orders from the boss. We’ve gotten word that a human fell recently, so we're doubling security with random checkpoints in area.” Your disappointment morphed into a stinging confusion. Their noses should have been able to pick up the distinctly human smell of your sweat covered skin, especially close up. A quiver in the air rustled a nearby patch of tall grass and your nose felt oddly colder than before. Resisting the urge to touch the slimy trail of saliva, you fidgeted in place. Your borrowed coat suddenly felt too warm and claustrophobic.

The other spoke matter-of-factly as they sniffed behind your ear.

 

“Even if you've not seem the human, smells can linger if they've been in your home or close by for extended periods of time. As a precaution, be sure to stay in public areas, or travel in numbers."

 

“You smell like ketchup. Are you Sans’ mate?” The feminine canine tittered as they snuffled.

 

“Dogaressa!” A deep growl rumbled behind you, and the feminine one whined at the scolding. The couple bickered straight through you and continued pushing their snouts up against your face and back. Long white ears flopped as they moved quickly, occasionally pausing to sniffle around your nose. As you stared at your shoes, you noticed the front of their robes held an embroidered face of the other, surrounded by small hearts. Empathy wormed its way into your chaotic storm of emotions.

 

“Dogamy please, no in front of the civvies!” They whined again and stood back.

 

“You’re all clear, Mrs. Sans, but keep your senses sharp. Report any suspicious activity as soon as possible.”

Dogaressa lifted their axe and the dog monster who growled followed suit. Shock travelled through you like a struck bell left to ring. Moving of their own volition, you feet padded along as Papyrus beckoned you over with exaggerated movements. He was jogging on the spot, now holding your duffel bag and clearly anxious to move on. Sans spoke softly to him, his voice not carrying far,  the tall skeleton gave a nod before sprinting over the peak of the small hill.

Practically steaming with rage, you dashed towards the shorter skeleton and threw yourself at his shoulders, who surprisingly took the hit like it was nothing. He remained solid on his feet as you scrambled onto his back. Momentum upset your balance as you bounced backwards, your top half swung down as your legs found purchase around his lower rib cage. Sans’ long fingers grabbed your knees, your arms pinwheeled until the crook of an elbow caught around the visible vertebrae of his neck.

Clambering further onto his back and holding yourself up around his neck, you huffed in annoyance and smacked a fist on his shoulder. He let out a weak wheeze before you relinquished the grip under his jaw.

 

“Why didn’t you just say that you were marking me, like we're god damn cats?” voice quiet and creaky in comparison to the harsh pokes against his collarbone, each stab punctuating your words. Sans hooked his elbows around your knees and shoved his hands back into his pockets. Your feet bounced in front of him as you wriggled, pinned in place by the vice of his arms.

 

“hey, give me some credit kid. even my coat covered up your funky human smell. just... think of it as a scent camouflage? a fragrant facade? or perhaps a whiffy wrapping?” he chuckled at the silliness, and made it seem that carrying your fidgeting form was effortless, almost lazy.

 

“I thought…” The effort to hold in a whimper shook you and cold tears caught upon your lashes. Wiping a sleeve roughly at your face to scrub at your damp cheeks and forehead, you buried your face into a bony shoulder. A tight knot formed in your throat which felt like it could cut off air to your lungs.

 

“your reaction was priceless. looked like you'd seen a ghost!” He laughed and your head rocked against his wobbling shoulders. He began walking in the same direction as his brother but thankfully at a much more leisurely pace. Slumped, draping your arms across his front, you resisted the rather inappropriate urge to touch his collarbones or sternum. You settled on softly tapping against his ribs.

 

“That wasn't nice.” You whispered. Tap tap tap softened by his tshirt. You initially thought the fabric of clothes would hang from his frame, but his form filled them out rather naturally.

 

“sorry boo-tiful.” He nearly sounded sincere but you could hear the smirk in his voice.

 

“i don't think i have the stomach to see you upset. want me to help raise your spirits?”

Suddenly too sullen to encourage the stupid puns, you responded by bringing up an arm and smacking him upon the jaw. His teeth clicked together with the force, the sound vibrating through his bones into your ear.

 

“ouch! ‘only did it to help! but what's a little spittle between friends?”

Your mouth twitched and you slapped a hand across his grinning teeth, holding your palm against his cold bones.

 

“no need to get scrappy! though, if you really tried to fight me, you wouldn't have a ghost of a chance.”

He spoke up without even moving his mouth, ventriloquist voice as clear as before.

 

“i suspectre that you're angry with me.” his mouth opened ever so slightly and something wet, which you assumed to be his tongue, swiped across your fingers. The squishy, damp surface tickled across your fingertips. You groaned internally, hating your betraying smile and you wiped your slimy hand across his rounded cheekbone.

 

“don't be blue, ol’ chum. i bet you're dying to laugh.” You revelled in the tense silence, unafraid of ignoring the bait.

 

“or you could continue to give me the cold shoulder? c’mon bud, this is phantomtastic material!” 

A very long piggyback ride would be an acceptable form of punishment, you decided.

 

“or just a harsh audience. maybe i should stop by the boo-tique, or the eye-scream parlour and ask their opinions?”

He stopped and hitched you a little further up his back. Oddly his bones did not feel uncomfortable underneath you, in fact, quite the opposite; substantial, dense and sturdy. It would have been comforting with strong bones grounding you to reality, if not for his elbows occasionally and painfully pinching at your skin.

 

“sorry kid, it comes with the terrortory, so you're stuck with me and my jokes until the grave!”

You sighed and sniffled halfheartedly, headache shifting behind your eyes. Stress swirled amongst anxiety and helplessness, which only served to agitate your body, exhausting overstimulation that wouldn't let you relax.

 

“kid.”

 

“bud.”

 

Quiet tears were making the neck of his white shirt damp and almost see through, bones more apparent and jutting, but he continued to pester and jostled you about.

 

“kid?”

 

“kid!”

 

You finally hummed into his neck and he struggled to get his words out. His shiver went unnoticed as he pushed through his giggles.

 

“what's a ghost’s favourite fruit?”

You gave another irritated hum and closed your eyes, trying to block him out.

 

“b- heh, booberries!”

You exhaled sharply, feigning agitation.

 

“hey, kid. bookle up!”

You snickered as you stuck a finger into his nasal cavity. He let out shrieking laughter and hopped into a run.

 

~

 

The scenery rarely changed, even as you passed over bridges and up snowy hills. Treetops, snow, rocky ledges and crunching gravel underfoot. As you looked up to catch a glimpse of something, anything above, you could only see a thick, swirling mist that would lighten and darken as the day drew on. Even fleeting glimpses of the galaxy as you hurdled through the universe would be enough to satisfy your restless urge to fly.

 

Was there a word to describe being homesick for the sky?

Passing monsters became more frequent, with the occasional double take or strange glance, and you wondered how often they moved from city to city. Perhaps newcomers were uncommon. You propped your chin on Sans’ shoulder, hugging him tighter and looking ahead, curious as to where you were heading.

Large homely buildings grew tall on either side of the grey cobbled precinct, a picturesque pine tree stood centred amongst the stone. A brown bear-like monster deftly stripped the branches of shining tinsel and colourful baubles, placing them carefully into storage boxes on the floor.

Sans tried weaving through the crowds and you passed a large sectioned off area between two decrepit houses, flanked with ominous red crosses and warning signs. You passed the signs too quickly to read any of the print.

Monsters and several guards, all wearing white face masks, stood in front of a roped off zone. A pastel yellow bunny holding a large clipboard spoke to the first monster, a small mousey creature covered in scales, that queued alongside the rope. After checking their papers and writing upon the clipboard, the bunny nodded and a fiercely armoured guard allowed the weeping scaled mouse to pass through. The mouse followed other monsters, past the two run down buildings and along another path surrounded by ropes and guards. Beyond the zigzagging queue of ropes, you could make out a clean white building, that would easily blend into the snow on a blustery day.

Small beads of sweat clung to Sans’ brow and you made a mental note, storing it away with the other questions that you had for later. He tapped at your calf before letting you drop and your feet touched the ground, legs jellified after your wobbly journey.

Monsters paused to stare at you as Sans dug around in his pockets, and you impulsively clung to the back of his shirt. Turning to find you apprehensively hiding within your scarf, his grin tightened, still unused to the sight of flighty stubbornness dulled behind sick and frightened eyes. He pulled you towards the wooden door of a squat two-story house. The key scraped against lock and you were quickly ushered inside, the door locking behind you with a click.

Sans let out a long breath and his shoulders relaxed.

 

“gave me a real work out back there, kid.” he tensed his limbs and his spine gave a crack. The noise made sent a shudder down your arms and you quickly looked away.

 

“so, let me give you the grand tour of the place!” He kicked his shoes into the middle of the floor and flopped onto the large green sofa.

 

“kitchen, stairs, don't go in pap’s room unless he says so, same for my room, have free reign of the bathroom and shed’s outside.” The skeleton’s tone as lazily and uninterested as their segmented finger pointing towards respective doors. He groped around the cushions and, fumbling around to find a remote control.

The house was simply decorated with a bookcase, stray books and plants littered around, and small pieces of art hung up. Large pieces of wooden furniture designed with Papyrus’ stature in mind were pushed up against the muted burgundy walls, leaving ample walking space around the room. The frankly hideous teal and magenta carpet somehow looked new and fuzzy, as if it were so horrendous that monsters dared not even walk across it, for fear of being sucked into an endless void of not-quite-chevroned, not-quite-scalloped patterns.

The stairs were wide enough for you to easily walk with your arms stretched out and your fingertips wouldn't touch the wall nor the polished banister. This lead to a small balcony of the second floor, lined with plain doors, though one had been defaced similarly to the the front door: with peeling stickers, ‘no entry’ tape and warning labels.

Everything was carpeted with the fluffy monstrosity, which stood in horrible contrast with the umber and black tiles of the kitchen. You vaguely wondered if the bathroom was tiled the same. The kitchen’s open doorway was separated from the living room by a layer of dangling strung beads, which swung gently in place, pinned above the arched frame. The chill air from the door made the beads click together, disrupting their natural swaying and sending the strings careening away from each other.

The TV hummed to life, picture flickering in after several seconds. A little outdated, but fully functional, with its wide black casing and a thick rounded screen; one of those old cathode ray tube TVs, you noted.

“we’ve got our own mobile, radio and TV stations. can't get surface stuff down here” he mumbled, speaking without looking at you, quickly flicking through channels.

 

“we also scavenge a lot of stuff,” Sans yawned as if reading your train of thought. Tiny snippets of conversations would jump out in between notes of classical music and half-seconds of sound effects.

 

“humans dump lots of stuff, which eventually finds a way to our dump near waterfall. the king named it the ‘opportunity pile’.” Sans scoffed, bringing his fingers up to liberally air quote the title, “you'll find lots of repurposed and refurbished things around here. we’ve gotta be thrifty, frugal, whatever.” he finished with a shrug, finally settling on a news channel presented by a large metallic rectangle. A yellow and red screen upon their chest flashed small pictures in sync with the story of the moment.

You stood awkwardly by the front door, moving your weight from one foot to the other. What happens now, you wondered, finding an intense interest in the thick, fluffy carpet.

 

“uh, you can sit down if you want? pap’s gone out for a while so you might’swell make yourself at home.” he patted the cushion near his leg, “plus, you've got a long road to recovery, and it sure as shit ain't paved with gold.”

Peeling off your outer clothes and pushing your shoes into a cubby behind the door, snow clumped in piles around the doormat. You shook errant flakes from your hair and wondered how long it would take for your headache to go away.

You gently sat on the far end of the sofa, delicately leaning against the plump cushions as if disturbing the very air around you meant you were intruding even more. Slowly pulled your knees up to your chin and sighed.

 

“Why d’ya do that?” his tone curious as he pointed towards your legs and tucked his own up, half sitting upon his feet and leaning into the arm of the chair.

You shrugged, unsure whether it was a habit from before the fall, or a newly acquired effort to make yourself appear smaller. Making a non-committed noise, you pretended to pay attention to the television. The headline story was dull and the monster continually referred to himself in third person. They brought up an emergency alert and Sans unconsciously leant forward, interested. He listened closely to the mechanical humming of the presenter's voice. They spoke cheerily of a brand new play,

“-to be presented next weekend at Mettaton’s brand new theatre at MTT Resort. _Staring_ Mettaton, _written_ by Mettaton, _about_ my-beautiful-Mettaton-self!” The screen cut to an advertisement poster of the robot-esque monster posed seductively, lying upon a bed of screenplays with rose petals showering upon them.

 

“In other -much less interesting- news,” Mettaton tacked on very quickly, throwing up a grainy CCTV picture of the forest, and you could just make out a dark figure in a blue scarf from between the trees. “The most recent human to have appeared from the Ruins has yet to be found. It is highly impossible for them to have gotten past our highly capable Royal Guard checkpoints, and no evidence has been found to suggest they left the forest, so monster kind beyond the mountains remains safe.” Mettaton droned, voice monotonous, “However, do not feel threatened if you are subject to random safety checks throughout the week, as these are for everymonster’s safety! These members of our fantastic guard are working overtime to make sure our homes are safe.”

He leant towards the camera, the screen upon his chest serious and blank.

 

“Fallen Humans may become violent, so be aware at all times. Report anything suspicious as soon as possible, buy tickets for my new play, do not travel alone and most importantly: do not engage the human.

Brightening up, the monster waved the large white gloves of their hands and adjusted their tie.

 

“Our next story is regarding the recent epidemic, with expert opinions on the causes, prevention and symptoms of the water-borne illn-” Sans let out a loud tut, low voice and mumbling words that drowned out the rest of the report. Switching the channel to a nature documentary on echoing flowers, he threw himself back into the sofa.

 

“papyrus is gunna be happy with this news.” he grumbled in displeasure and ran a hand across his face. It was a shock to see a picture of yourself on the news, but the poor quality made you sigh in relief, letting out the breath you were holding. No one would recognise you from the CCTV footage alone.

 

“he's obsessed with that celebrity, mettaton.” Sans clarified, “he’ll want to see the new play. but i suppose its good news for us that Dr. Alphys hasn't fixed her more expensive camera system yet. what a convenient development.” He winked, and suspicious thoughts wormed through you. “don’t let me polarise your undeveloped view of her work though. she's very focused on the big picture.”

 

You squinted at Sans, glowering and suspicious. “What did you do?”

 

“oh crop! i’ve been framed! but i shutter to think you view me so negatively.” He posed, faux offense and shock upon his face.

 

“Camera.” You added very helpfully and Sans began wheezing with laughter, blue tears forming under his sockets.

 

“so, i thought you could crash on the sofa if you wanted? gives me time to tidy the shed out, or maybe the basement?” The skeleton’s voice trailed off as he thought, finger tapping against his chin. A single blast of a foghorn made you both flinch and Sans laughed.

“man, i need to change that ringtone.”

He produced a black flip phone from his shorts and you marveled at how small the device was. Certain aspects of technology were certainly more advanced Underground, whilst others were years behind the surface.

Bones noisily snapping on the plastic, Sans tapped away at the buttons. The phone let out a soft ‘ping’ and he nodded to himself.

 

“much better! anyway, papyrus is training with a dummy to prepare for training with undyne,” you nodded, despite not understanding the situation or many of those involved, “so we have the entire night to kill, which means i’mma take a nap!” he jumped up from the sofa and bound up the flight of stairs. The remote control fell to the floor as the cushions slowly reinflated.

After the documentary, several sitcoms starring Mettaton and a talk show, also hosted by Mettaton, sleep began to pull at your eyes. You rubbed them with your knuckles and slowly stood up, hopeful for a chance to bathe and then sleep.

Floorboards groaned in protest as you paused outside a door. You were sure Sans had pointed out the central door as his bedroom on your “grand tour” of the house. You shuffled awkwardly, watching the soft lights flicker around the doorframe, debating internally whether to knock or just ask when he was awake. Staring at the carpet for too long made your eyes sting, like staring into an interior-decorating nightmare sun. Gently you rapped your knuckles on the door and waited. No movement and the only noise was a soft snoring inside the room.

Cautiously opening the door, you peered inside. It took several moments for you eyes adjust to the gloom but thankfully Sans stirred as the hinges squeaked. It was difficult to make out the details, but his room seemed cluttered and messy, with piles of papers upon the desk and clothes strewn across the floor. You let out a perplexed hum, confused as to what, precisely, had caused the mysterious glow under the door and into the hallway. Magic, you presumed and hoped you would grow accustomed to its ever growing presence around you.

The smaller skeleton shuffled on his bed, blankets bunched up around his feet and pillow cuddled tight to his bare ribcage. He opened an eye, the light piercing in the dark. His expression softened, eyelight a gentle glow.

 

“‘sup kid? something wrong?” his voice was gravelly with sleep and it made your stomach squirm.

 

“you feelin’ bonely without me?” he chuckled softly and sat up, swingly his legs over the side of the bed frame. Your head shook, hair spinning about and caused Sans to laugh more.

 

“shower?” you whispered, hands pulling at the hem of your sleeve.

 

“ah shit. uh, yeah sure, of course. kinda forgot humans did that too.” he admitted, pulling himself to his feet. Your eyes grew accustomed to the dim as he stretched out, his shirt piled with the rest of the mess on the floor. You tried not to gaze too long at his bare bones; a wide chest with solid ribs that jutted out from the thick trunk of his spine, bones twisting with each stretch of his body. A hot blush crept across the bridge of your nose, flushing your cheeks pink and you turned your head away, partially closing the door.

 

“hm, papyrus still has your bag, but you can borrow some clothes until he gets back. that okay?”

Sans stepped into some pink slippers and you gave a curt nod, fretfully bumbling in the doorway. He riffled through an open chest of drawers before he pulled the door from your grip. You couldn't meet his eye yet, forcing yourself to study the carpet more. Yep, still vile, you thought and followed him to the bathroom. He taught you how to work the fancy shower system, which dials adjusted heat and pressure. Dropping a small bundle of clothes by the sink, he stopped to watch you studying the tiles.

 

“you don't need to feel like you're in the way, or invading our home. i invited you here for a reason. but don’t worry, i’ll let you know if you overstep any boundaries.” he reassured and closed the bathroom door. You undressed quickly, pulling your jeans and socks away, it already felt better to be out of the cold sweat. Halfway through pulling your vest over your head, the sound of the door opening again made you jump, ears and elbows becoming tangled with the fabric pressing over your face.

You heard a sharp squeak and Sans quickly spilling out,

“sorrybutijustwantedtoletyouknowthere’sablanketandpillowforyouonthesofa. goodnight.”

The door slammed as you finally freed yourself, a fierce blush had spread to the tips of your shoulders. The cool water failed to slow your hummingbird heart once you stepped into the trickling shower. You tried to focus on something else, but the bright white bathroom tiles made you think of smooth bones and you buried your face in your hands.

 

The body wash smelt of pinewood and spearmint, oddly refreshing as the grime, sweat and muck rinsed clean from your skin. You teased a small twig and leaves from your hair, wondering why skeletons would need ‘MTT Brand Sparkle Shampoo” but you used a liberal amount anyway. Your body seemed to sparkle for days with the shampoo residue and you felt almost otherworldly as the light hit your glittering skin, like you had a chance of fitting in down here.

 

You stepped into the clean borrowed clothes, a dark baggy tshirt and shorts loosened as much as you could. They must have been an old pair, you wondered at the size. The seamless shorts felt more like tight boxers, your hips filling out the fabric and hugging against your curves.

The air outside the bathroom was considerably cooler, but less thick and muggy with humidity. You were clean, inside and out as you inhaled fresh air. Embarrassment trickled through your stomach as your nipples hardened at the temperature change, painfully obvious through the thin fabric of your shirt. There were no ways to hide the natural, but still uncomfortable, bodily reaction and you cringed at the sight of Sans placing pillows upon the sofa. You hoped he hadn't seen too much of your nude form in the bathroom.

 

The TV and main lights were off, a floor lamp besides the sofa cast a soft glow in the room. A yellow fleece blanket lay spread across the chair for you. You hoped it felt as soft as it looked, but even a potato sack would be a luxury compared to a tree hollow, or the hard, snow covered ground.

 

Sans’ eyelights stared directly at your body as you were distracted by a cold bottle of water upon the coffee table. He darted past as you took a sip, hands across his sockets as he squeaked out another frantic “goodnight”, and the spaces between his bones failed to hide the dusty blue blush across his cheekbones. His bedroom door slammed shut and you were alone once more.

 

The flustered feeling stayed with you, like an irritating itch, as you switched off the lamp and buried yourself within the blanket. The downy pillow beneath your head smelt like pinewood and fresh laundry, comforting and homely.

 

As you quickly tumbled into a deep sleep, you thought back to the crying scaley mouse and the smooth white walls of the building beyond the queue. You fell further, your head growing heavier and sagging into the cushion. A fleeting thought came from within from the darkness, you couldn't recall seeing any monsters leaving the white building. You continued to see yellow flowers jutting from the earth, just within your field of view. Your heart jumped, but the thoughts were forgotten to the realms of lost dreams as you awoke the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be a touch slower than before because Uni has started up for another year, but I'm still writing and chugging along :3
> 
> A bit of a flirty chapter, with blatant staring, accidentally nudey peeping and cursed nips doing the thing. Flirty Sans is life. I'll update the tags now! :D


	13. Disconnection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Contains detailed descriptions of disassociation and depersonalisation throughout the entire chapter, but there is a summary/synopsis in the end notes!

Papyrus suddenly returned home from his impromptu sleepover, a little shocked to find you jumping up from the sofa and hiding behind the ficus when he slammed the door, frightening you with the loud arrival.  
  
He recognised you through your shocked expression and trembling figure, and for once his voice was quiet, soft and careful.  
  
“I’m sorry, Sans’ Friend. I was not expecting guests! I hope you do not think that I, The Great and Honorable Papyrus, intentionally treats others with such disrespect! Nyeh!”  
  
You shook your head, still uncoordinated and half asleep despite the startled awakening. You coaxed yourself out from behind the plant as Papyrus dropped several bags upon the dining table, his voice returning to a normal level when he saw your shoulders relax.  
  
“I HAVE RETURNED EARLY FROM THE DUMMY-GHOST’S HOSPITABLE TRAINING SLASH SLEEPOVER TO BE ON TIME TO MAKE BREAKFAST, AND I NEED TO MAKE SURE SANS EATS SOMETHING MORE SUBSTANTIAL THAN FAST FOOD!”  
  
You nodded and hummed thoughtfully. Sans seemed like the type to not always look after himself, you smiled at Papyrus’ doting affection, and he did not even think twice about taking care of his brother.  
  
Which brother is older? you pondered and seated yourself against the pillows propped up against the chair’s arm. The tall skeleton removed his gloves and dusted snow from his shoulder pads. His amateur armour consisted of more costume aspects, that seemed to draw inspiration from Human superhero designs, with bright shorts that accentuated the long bones of his legs, and an immensely broad chest plate donned with a neck scarf and shoulder protection. You recalled your previous encounters with the skeleton, remembering it was the only outfit he had worn. Even Sans seemed to own different clothes, especially changing his regular look after you had indefinitely “borrowed” his thick grey jacket. Perhaps Papyrus always needed it, as a training exercise to bear the Royal Guard’s heavy armour?  
  
Heavy footfalls echoed in the tiny kitchen as he stomped around, placing groceries in cupboards from the bags, before pulling out pans and ingredients from drawers. The long strings of decorative beads clicked together and oscillated freely, swinging wildly as he passed between rooms.  
  
  
  
You peeped through the curtains behind your head and watched dark, dense clouds roll closer like an incoming tide. If there were complex weather systems Underground, you were positive a storm was approaching. You grew giddy for the familiar view of rain slapping against windows, rivulets racing each other down the glass, yet held a fascinated reverence on how the phenomena occurred below the Surface.  
  
Though safe from the blizzard, the air felt heavy around you and you could almost feel a pressure increasing on your body. Phantom pains shot through your once-broken wrist and you feebly clutched it to your chest, rubbing your thumb and massaging along the joint.  
  
“ARE YOU WEARING MY BROTHER’S CLOTHES AGAIN, SANS’ FRIEND? I'M CERTAIN I WASHED THOSE SHORTS ONLY LAST WEEK!”  
  
Papyrus’ tone edged on accusatory as he stood in the archway, strings of beads in his grasp to keep them fro. his eyesight. You nodded, unable to tell if there was a problem with borrowing the clothes or if he was simply curious. For someone so boisterous and lively, he could be as difficult to gauge as his stoic brother. Feeling small under his gaze as he waited for an explanation, you wondered how often you would find yourself under scrutiny, suspicious eyes squinting at your lack of words.  
  
“you took grace’s bag with you instead of dropping it off here first, like i asked you to. they had no change of clothes so i loaned some of mine.” Sans’ pink slippers trod almost silently down the steps, muscle memory avoiding the creaking floorboards. You mind wandered and internally wondered if skeletons used another phrase due to their lack of musculature. You cringed at the potential of Sans’ store of muscle jokes.  
  
Papyrus opened his mouth to speak and closed it quickly with an audible snap. He peeked sheepishly over to your bag upon the table and frowned.  
  
“AH, IT SEEMS YOU ARE CORRECT,” he began meekly and then his words tumbled out in a sudden rush of justification, “I WAS JUST SO EAGER TO GET TO TRAINING TRAINING, ESPECIALLY AFTER MR. DUMMY SO GRACIOUSLY OFFERED TO COACH ME, AND THEN HIS WIFE, MRS. MANNEQUIN MADE COOKIES AND, AND, AND I WAS HAVING FUN PLAYING WITH LITTLE BABY GHOSTINGTON THAT DUMMY SAID I COULD STAY THE NIGHT AFTER THE NEXT SESSION RAN ON TOO LONG AND-”  
  
Sans glanced over to you nervously fidgeting against the sofa, and found himself unable to stop his gaze travelling down your bare legs. The borrowed shorts had loosened overnight and hung low upon your hips. You shyly caught his wandering eye, expression pleading as Papyrus continued. Sans turned his head sharply when his brother finally paused to take a deep breath, about to begin again when he felt a boney hand upon his shoulder.  
  
“don’t worry bro, it’s fine. i don't mind letting them borrow stuff, and grace so graciously offered to keep me company whilst you were out.”  
  
Papyrus groaned and rubbed at the space between his eyes and the bridge of his nasal bone.  
  
“IT IS TOO EARLY FOR THIS, SANS. I HAVE BREAKFAST TO PREPARE AND YOU'RE DISTRACTING ME!”  
  
Sans chuckled and made his way past his brother, ducking under the outstretched arm.and the gap in the door partition.  
  
“oh, sorry pap. i’ll get out of your hair once i’ve made coffee. did you have a nice time yesterday?”  
  
The taller spoke tightly as he ground his teeth together, “WE DON'T EVEN HAVE HAIR! BUT YES, THANKYOUVERYMUCH, I HAD A LOVELY TIME! DID YOU KNOW LITTLE GHOSTINGTON HAS DECIDED THEY WANT TO BE A FLOOR LAMP WHEN THEY BECOME CORPOREAL?”  
  
  
  
Their conversation continued in the kitchen over utensils clattering and food preparation. You sighed and stood before you could get too comfortable sinking into the pile of pillows and blankets. Without disturbing the skeletons, you retrieved your bag, the familiar weight comforting upon your shoulder. Mimicking Sans’ footsteps, you trod carefully around the squeakier floorboards and made your way across the landing.  
  
Painfully aware the pattern would jarr your eyesight and make your headache worse, you avoided looking at the hideous carpeted floor. Perhaps you would feel better once rehydrated and fully clothed. You quietly locked the bathroom door, still able to hear a murmur of the conversation taking place below your feet. You splashed your face with cold water and gargled mouthwash to help reduced the furry feeling upon your teeth, deodorant under your arms made you feel a touch more… human.  
  
Sipping water from a fresh bottle, you sifted through your bag and pulled on fresh clothes. Someone below dropped something solid and metal, sound dulled by the ceiling, though the conversation grew louder and heated for a moment. The bickering siblings made a sigh slip from you as your choices were once again torn. A stab of urgency shook through you, fierce desire to keep moving forward wracked pain against your skull. You wanted to stay for longer, but hesitant to grow too attached, nibbling at your lip as you realised you were already developing a soft spot for them.  
  
Indecision made the pain behind your eyes grow as you sunk to the floor in silence, leaning against the tub where the ceramic felt helpfully cold against your forehead.  
  
Closer to the floor you could hear a little more clearly, able to tell Papyrus’ excited tone from Sans’ deep voice. Papyrus spoke of ghost sandwiches, talking loudly about Mr. Dummy being a perfect coach, as his body impervious to damage, and how Papyrus wanted to travel back to Waterfall soon with Sans, to ask Captain Undyne if he could join Royal Guard.  
  
“-and with this human on the loose, I had a brilliant idea! If I capture them and present them to the Captain, she’ll have no choice but to allow me to join!”  
  
Sans chuckles uneasily and agreed, clattering dishes and cutlery, their voices growing faint as they left the kitchen. Fear that always remained hidden within the depths of your gut crawled up and gnawed its way to your throat. The pain of your wrist and head set you on edge, wondering if you were putting the Skeletons in danger by staying longer, especially with their ties to the Royal Guard. Papyrus seemed harmless, but his obliviousness could easily hinder your progress on route to the King. Something primal suddenly snapped within you.  
  
More zaps of that uneasy pushing made you stand, moving on autopilot to gather up your bag, feet carrying you as took the stairs two at a time towards the front door. You slipped into your shoes and indefinitely borrowed jacket, which had thankfully dried overnight and you stuffed your scarf into the bag. You didn’t have time to properly dress, or even eat; you needed to leave. Now!  
  
Sans and Papyrus looked up from their breakfast, conversation stopping suddenly as you mumbled a small “goodbye” and sprinted out into snow.  
  
  
  
Papyrus stared at his brother, who had been watching the empty doorway in a curious silence until the smaller skeleton shook his head and leapt up from his chair, leaving his breakfast soup half eaten and rapidly cooling.  
  
“BROTHER, WHY DID YOUR FRIEND LEAVE SO EARLY?” Papyrus set his cutlery into his empty bowl and gathered the dishes in his overly large hands. “IT’S YOUR DAY FREE FROM WORK, SO I WAS HOPING WE COULD ALL GO SET UP A PUZZLE TOGETHER! MAYBE WE COULD GO BACK TO THE ICE POND AND DANCE LIKE THEY DID!”    
  
Sans whipped a blue jacket from its coat hook, urgent actions betraying soft words when he smiled at his brother.  
  
“don’t sweat it, paps. i’m sure it’s just something they forgot to do yesterday. why don’t i catch up to’em and we’ll meet you near the forest once they've done, okay?”  
  
“THAT SOUNDS LIKE A VERY PRODUCTIVE PLAN! I'M GLAD YOU WILL BE ABLE TO KEEP THEM COMPANY, AND NOT TAKE A SEVERAL-HOUR LONG NAP ON YOUR DAY OFF, LIKE USUAL.”  
  
Sans fought the urge to roll his eyes-lights, albeit playfully, and pushed his arms into the sleeves.  
  
“DON’T FORGET TO TAKE A COAT! IT LOOKS A LITTLE STORMY OUT THERE. I DON'T WANT YOU CATCHING A COLD . ESPECIALLY IF YOUR FRIEND CONTINUES BORROWING FROM YOUR WARDROBE!” Papyrus called from the kitchen, jealousy uncharacteristically tinted his voice; clearly unused to having to share his brother. Sans knew there was malice in the words and grinned at the joke, accidental or otherwise.  
  
He pulled up the hood of the jacket, fur tickling the back of his skull.  
  
He recalled the day Papyrus came home from the junk pile with an armful of warm clothes, in preparation for their move to Snowdin. He very much wanted the blue jacket, stating the fur lining was very much in fashion at that moment -according to Mettaton- but the sleeves barely reached past his gangly elbows once he tried it on. He sadly bequeathed the coat to Sans, and the smaller skeleton grinned wider at the memory as he stepped through the door.  
  
  
  
  
  
Your breath came out in white clouds of vapour which blew away in the swift winds, and snow gathered upon your shoulders as you rushed through the eerily quiet town centre. The residents, though used to the weather, clearly did not wish to be caught in the snow as it fell heavier. You were grateful that you wouldn't have to hide your face from any monsters.  
  
Past shops, empty stalls and cozy houses with puffing chimneys, the path thinned to a long plain road, protected from the fast flowing river by thick lines of tall conifer trees. Their branches bowed with the growing weight of the snow. A pile occasionally fell off, causing the thick greeny to spring back into place, and the process began again with a gentle dust of white.  
  
You slowed to a light jog, panting and pushing through your straining muscles. Your illness had passed but evidently you were yet to recover your stamina. The long path continued straight, then veered off through an archway carved into the staggeringly tall cliff-face. It still took your breath away how much space there was beneath the lofty ceilings, holding towns, miniature mountains and even weather systems. But still, you yearned to see the stars just once more. You were worried about navigating through the dark, but small lanterns lined the corridor's wall, lighting the space with flickering yet bright yellow flames.  
  
Sheltered from the snow and wind, you took the time to slow to a brisk pace, hesitant to slow further in case you came across any monsters. They tended to be rather talkative, and the burning perseverance made you impatient and unable to think straight. You could barely feel your limbs, nor the water dripping down upon you from the tunnel’s roof. It was not numbness from the cold, but as if you were observing your actions through someone else's eyes. Your mind was dulled to sensation besides the urge to just. keep. going. It was all consuming and you barely registered that ahead lay a curtain of water along the wall, that ran in a steady stream across the floor and dropped down another ledge.  
  
Your only independent thought was noticing Sans leaning against the desk of another sentry station, half hidden in a small mouth of a hollow. Snow mounded upon to its roof despite the droplets of water from the upper ceiling and the definite lack of snow fall within the tunnels. You stopped in your tracks and stared incredulously. He huffed and puffed, raising a finger to signal he needed a moment, breathless as if he had ran tirelessly to meet you. But you were certain he had not passed you, for you would have easily spotted him along the narrow trail.  
  
“well kid, you obviously needed to get somewhere pretty quickly.” his signature grin seemed tight and irritated as he spoke between panting. You took a step backwards, body insistent on moving.  
  
“and where exactly are you headin’?” He frowned.  
  
You brain felt full with the clouds that billowed from your mouth, each breath adding to the fog. A flash of sunshine yellow and a flowery form caught you eye and you inhaled sharply, taking several steps backwards. Your breathing picked up, mist dancing around your head as memories pinched at your insides. You stumbled as Sans stepped in front of the innocuous blue flower Your eyes darted around, unable to find anything of the glittering yellow star.  
  
“what's gotten into you?” The skeleton continued walking towards you, low voice humming with concern and an edge of frustration. “why’re you always so flighty and constantly changing your mind? it seemed like you were a bit happier, accepting my help an’ all, and then you just up an’ ran away? i don’t geddit, kid.”  
  
“You don’t know me.” Your sense of self felt grew even more distant when your voice felt too far away. “I.. need to go."  
  
“go where?” Sans held his arms out, imploring you for an answer. “i can help you, whatever it is that you're tryna to do, but it's not safe right now. a nasty blizzard is startin’ up and we don’t wanna get caught out in it.”  
  
“I need to go... to the King.” You found yourself saying. “I- I need to talk to him, to make him stop.”  Anger flurried inside you quicker than the snow outside but it felt like a mild irk as you viewed yourself from a distance.  
  
“He killed them all, Sans. All the tiny innocent children that fell into this wretched place!” His browbone furrowed as your words took a desperate turn and echoed down the cave. “If I could just talk to him, maybe I can get him to stop? I have to at least try. But right now I need to keep going! I have to!”  
  
He shook his head, quiet in disbelief. Your feet slipped from the planks as you walked backwards, searching around for an exit or distraction, and you splashed into shallow water. Rippling streams pushed hard around your ankles and the force threatened to topple you, until a pair of strong skeletal hands gripped your waist.  
  
“how do you know about those kids? wait, you can’t just waltz into the throne room and talk to asgore! so many monsters have tried that before but he’s made up his mind. the king risked everything, lost his queen and his friends because he’s so determined to stick to this plan. what makes you think you can change his mind, over monsters he’s known for decades? part of me knows he isn't happy about it either way, but there is literally no other way to break the barrier!” His grip upon your waist tightened and he shook you, water splashing between your legs and you regained balance. The words rang against the rocky walls, but couldn't quite to reach you.  
  
“so you’ve stubbornly and ridiculously decided to go on a suicide mission, for what? to talk him out of it, maybe over a nice cup of tea? ever since we were trapped down here, scientists, geologists and, fuck, even alchemists have been working nonstop to figure out a way to get us free: to break the barrier and get us out of this dark place. only a few monsters know what happened to the humans, and we’re all sworn to secrecy because the rest of the monsters end up forgetting about the humans. most monsters have lost hope and are depressed enough as it is! monsterkind would crumble. they'd totally snap if this got out, falling down from despair left and right, and it’d cause riots knowing their only way out is by killing seven fucking kids. they'd be bearing arms in uproar, because a child is still a child. or turn on the humans and they'd personally hunt every one that falls here." His words twisted like a blade in an open wound. Disassociating further from the pain, you fell still, numbly pliant in his grip as and tried to listen over the noise of the water.  
  
“so yeah, if you make it past me, and all the guards standing in your way, go ahead and talk to him, and be the fifth soul to wind your way into his collection! your ridiculous sacrifice would be futile, because it will accomplish absolutely nothing; he’ll do exactly the same up until the last human, routinely slaughtering them on sight. i know for certain he does not enjoy it, but stars above help the next two poor souls that fall down here if i'm not around to help them!"  
  
Sans growled out his words, face inches away from yours. Each flash of anger etched into his skull, tired and irate lines under his eye sockets and around his frowning mouth. The lights of his eyes disappeared as he stared down at you, sockets empty and dark until he suddenly noticed something behind your eyes. A mirage of an endless, terrifying well of black instead of the usual glimmers of light. Blinking did not shift the darkness, yet you hardly seemed to notice it. You looked distant, unfocused and kept trying to fidget yourself away from him. The closeness seem not to perturb you, but the primal anxiety stimulating you to keep on walking to the barrier, or until you could no longer stand.  
  
His expression softened, and he halfheartedly smiled. Regret immediately sunk into his bones and he realised something wasn't quite right with your soul. He couldn't tell exactly what, but the colours trembled and muted within your chest. He rubbed his thumbs against the curves of your hips, still keeping a strong hold as you twitched to step away. The words were barely sunk in yet your eyes held his own unwaveringly.  
  
“i- i’m sorry for snappin’. it’s unbelievably kind how much you’re trying to help, and i can see how much this is eating at you. you don’t want anyone else to get hurt, but if there's no other way out, how can we brea-” He sighed, unable to find the right words, “okay, it’s just… i’m a pretty good judge of character. it’s painfully obvious that you're going through a lot, but underneath that you're kind and funny and bea- hm, i don’t want to see you hurt, ‘cause, i like you and i, uh, really care about you.”  
  
  
  
“Howdy Sans, is that you? It seems I may have picked a terrible day to visit the school children, but I’m glad to hear you're still up and about on duty despite the storm.” A booming voice called, and let out a rolling laugh from further down the tunnel, the figure yet to round the sharp corner closest to you.  
  
“Sans, are you there? I'm sure I heard someone else there with you?”  
  
Their wide shadow loomed closer to the corner and Sans spun you on the spot, the splashing of both your feet disguised under the pounding waterfall. He slapped a hand over your mouth when you opened it to speak, sliding his other arm around your stomach and he pulled you close.  
  
“asgore! he'd recognise that you're human! stop fighting me: he'll kill you!” He whispered against your ear and stepped backwards towards the curtain of water. Now’s your chance, your mind urged, electricity jumping through your veins at the opportunity to appease the burning desire under your skin, and you fought against Sans grip. You wriggled and shifted, consequences be damned, bending and pushing your weight around, disregarding your safety, biting at the fingers across your mouth, until Sans threateningly growled in your ear and lifted you effortlessly. He tightened his vice like arms and covered most of your jaw with his large hand span.  
  
You had no choice but to be carried, pulled backwards by the secure grip circled across your body. Both pairs of eyes were upon the distorted shadow, on which you could make out broad shoulders, tall curved horns and a fluttering cape.  
  
Sans slid his hand away, only to replace it with his arm wrapped tight around your head, the inside of his elbow pressed flush against your mouth. The action urged you to be quiet and the flesh of your cheeks dipped under the hard bones. You could feel his wide ribs expand and contract against your back with each laboured and nervous breath. After several steps you expected to hit a wall, however, the skeleton continued, slowly carrying you underneath the waterfall, just before the huge figure came into view. You kicked your legs around and scrabbled at the arms holding you. The heavy water dropped across you, mostly plastering your hair to your face and trickling down your back, but thankfully ran straight off the fabric of the bag under your arm.  
  
Freezing water jolted you back into your body with a muffled squeak through Sans’ solid bones. Your feet dropped, heels dragging clumsily upon the dirt until Sans stopped. His crushing hold bore your weight as you twitched, numbed senses coming back into focus; sharp and overwhelming. The deafening noise of the waterfall in front of you rang harshly around the small cave you were hidden in, the footsteps stomping across the smooth floor and the large silhouette of the King, barely distinguishable through the thick wall of water, rippled with hues of brown and blue. Without any lamps or within your hiding spot, you were safely concealed from view.  
  
“Hello? Is anyone there?” He called, sounding perplexed, water slightly garbling his great thunderous voice.  
  
“I was absolutely positive I heard som- oh! Ha ha ha!” Asgore's breathy laugh boomed and he paused in front of the waterfall. You and the skeleton at your back held a breath. Your slick fingers gripped the arm across your mouth, squeezing at the thick bones beneath his damp blue sleeve. He returned the gesture, softly rubbing his thumb against your hips once more, in small movements. You jacket had ridden up in your struggle and his thumb brushed against your soft skin. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but marvel at how soft you were all over. Protectively, he somehow pulled you even closer, shoulders hunching against you.  
  
“Oh what a silly Monster. You were talking to an Echo Flower all along! Of course no one will be out in this snow storm. Now, I really should give the school a call and advise them to close for the next day or two whilst the storm passes. The children will be pleased at least.”  
  
Asgore’s silhouette moved out of view and he laughed at himself again. The King drew closer to the lonely pale blue flower and cupped a large paw to an ear, the air rustled and somehow it called back the last thing repeated near it’s open petals. Sans’ disembodied voice replied, ghostly sounds unable to capture his deep tones and made him sound too high, and touch too twinkly:  
  
  
  
"...hm, i don’t want to see you hurt, ‘cause, i like you and i, uh, really care about you...”  
  
  
  
Asgore recognised the skeleton’s voice speaking back to him and he smiled gently. This conversation was not his to listen to. He turned, cloak whipping the air and causing the flower to wobble restlessly, replaying the words over and over as he walked away.  
  
  
  
"... -on’t want to see you hurt, ‘cause, i like you and i, uh, really care about you...  
  
  
  
Sans sunk his face into your hair in embarrassment, the strands rustling against his nasal cavity. His cheekbones magically blushing blue when you perked up, listening to his flowery echo-voice replayed again and again. The sound of the King’s footsteps faded as he trekked back the way he came. Stepping back into your body made your emotions almost new and raw, digging up the slightest of feelings that you had barely considered within your moments being disembodied, and the emotions were thrown into the foreground of your mind. It was difficult to contain the all encompassing rush and you buried your face into Sans arm as his grip loosened, unable to stop the warm and safe contentment bubbling inside of you.  
  
  
  
"... -ike you and i, uh, really care about y-...”  
  
  
  
You both stood perfectly still for the longest time, clinging to each other for comfort. Flower-Sans’ voice faded too, but the words stuck to your brain like a magnetic attracted to your whirring thoughts. Maybe that's why he was so insistent on helping you, your mind babbled and a shimmering hope prayed it was more than platonic; inhibition brought upon by your dizzying inebriation, drunk on raw emotion.  
  
The skeleton released the breath he was holding and exhaled sharply against the back of your head, the air shooting down the jacket's hood against the back of your neck. Your skin was already damp and the rush of air cooly tingled along your spine, and you didn’t hold back the instinctive reaction of arching your back against him. Suddenly feeling flushed and breathless by the close contact, you could distinctly feel each brush of his bones against your body.  
  
He stiffened at the contact and you arched further into his touch. He inhaled deeply upon your crown,  pressing his hips against you, and taking in your chemically-floral and soapy sweet scents within the dankness of the cavern.  
  
Finally, you twisted your head to look up at him, mouth free from his arm, and a tiny smile formed upon your parted lips. His eyes were closed, expression almost pained as sweat and water dripped down the side of his skull. Slowly, he crossed his arms around your ribs, feeling so tiny beneath him, and he squeezed as if checking you were really there.  
  
“Did you really mean that?” you whispered.  
  
He dropped to rest his forehead on your shoulder and shamefully enjoyed the way you shivered against him from each puff of breath against your neck. Your own breathing picked up and he nodded against your shoulder. Flustered and with colour rising to your cheeks, you tried to pull away but Sans reacted quicker, turning you so sharply that your already dizzy brain span in tight circles.  
  
He studied you closely, fascinated by the way the bridge of your nose blushed and your pupils dilated in the dim. He nodded again, suddenly at a loss for words and you looked down to your feet. A long boned finger hooked under your chin and tilted your head up. Another set of boney fingers snaked down your back, slipping underneath the hem of your shirt. Cold, pointed fingertips danced against your skin, settling into the small your back and coaxed you closer.  
  
“Grace…” Your name rolled from his mouth in a gentle whisper as powerful as a prayer. You watched his shoulders rise and fall with each shuddering breath and you yearned to be closer.  
  
Even the small but intimate act made you shiver, a strange but pleasantly warming swell bloomed deep within your chest. His face was so, so close and your gaze flitted from his open mouth, back to his eyes.  
  
It was taking Sans huge amounts of restraint to not close the gap between your mouths, a shaking breath against his teeth made him stare at your soft lips. He so badly wanted to touch them, feel them, taste them , but with his last scrap of self control he pulled away and relinquished his grip upon your chin. The hand upon your back remained and he took a step to press your face against his chest. You circled your arms around his ribcage and smothered yourself into his sodden clothes.  
  
  
  
“c’mon, let's go.”  
  
  
  
You nodded, reluctant to let go. Sans took a second to study your face. The darkness had vanished, leaving your eyes crystal clear and bright. You blinked up at him and relief curled his frown into a toothy grin   
  
  
“don’t worry, i know a shortcut.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your patience whilst I get used to the routine of studies! Please keep commenting/ leaving kudos/bookmarking/subscribing etc, as it is the best feedback I can get besided views, and even a comment of "I like this" motivates me 10,000% more! But 1000+ views, oh mannnnn!  
> Anyway, have some terrible expositional dialogue and some growing feels. 
> 
> Yes, Papyrus goes to train for training because he's dedicated, and enjoys making weird undescribed breakfast soups. 
> 
> TL;DR/Don't want to read the disassociating:  
> Grace has conflicting feelings about staying with the skeleton brothers for too long, not wanting to put them in danger or risk being detected by their connections to the Royal Guard. They overhear Papyrus mention how he wishes to trap the human and take then to Captain Undyne, in the hopes of impressing her, and letting him be a part of the Guard. Grace worries Papyrus' naivety could potentially put them all in danger.
> 
> Grace's internal conflict causes them to disassociate and, not able to think properly, run out of the house, because "something almost primal is telling them to just keep moving towards the barrier". Papyrus tells Sans there may be a snow storm approaching, and Sans chases after Grace, leaving his brother to clean up their Breakfast Soup (ew). Sans catches up to Grace in the beginning tunnels of Waterfall, near his sentry station.
> 
> Sans is confused by Grace's contradictory actions (accepting help and then running away) and he questions their plan, which he deems a suicide mission.
> 
> He says that 7 human souls are the ONLY way to break the barrier and many intelligent professors and magically powerful monsters have tried to find another way, but all have failed. He says the information about King Asgore killing the other humans cannot get out, as monsters have mostly forgetten about the fallen humans, and would despair and riot at the thought of their King murdering children. And the thought of this plan being monsterkind's only way to break the barrier would cause monsters to "fall down" with despair.  
> He admits he likes and cares for Grace, and doesn't want them to be the 5th soul Asgore takes, stating their efforts to talk the King out of his plans are futile because he will continue killing until he has all 7 souls required.
> 
> Sans notices something unusually dark behind their eyes and is concerned for them. Grace does not seem to notice anything wrong, so Sans does not mention it.
> 
> Kind Asgore's voice echoes down the corridor, stating he recognises Sans' voice but not "the other's (Grace's). Before he comes into view, he says he is going to see local school children, but should be postponing because of the quickly approaching storm. Grace somehow sees this opportunity, in their muddled and disconnected brain, as a way to finally talk to the King. Sans covers their mouth so Asgore does not discover them and drags them into a secret cavern behind a waterfall, hiding them both as King Asgore comes into view. Sans tells that Asgore would recognise Grace as being human, and would kill them.
> 
> Grace struggles regardless and Sans holds them from fighting back, until the freezing cold waters from the waterfall bring them back to reality, and they realise how grave the situation is. They also realise they may be harbouring feelings for Sans, as suddenly bouncing back into their body made them realise feelings they didnt consider in the moments of disassociation.
> 
> King Asgore thinks the voices were replays from a nearby Echo Flower and laughs at the silliness of his 'mistake'. He turns around when he realises the storm is getting worse and leaves the tunnels the way he came in.
> 
> Grace enjoys being close to Sans, despite the situation, and they both secretly wish to kiss the other. Sans restrains himself and used the last of his self control to stop holding Grace.  
> He says they need to leave and he knows of a shortcut and notices the darkness within their eyes has disappeared.
> 
> *confetti*


	14. Static Shocks and Missing Socks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Detailed description of auditory hallucination and possible unreality. 
> 
> As always, there's a detailed synopsis in the end notes :)

Dark,

  
yet darker still.  
  
  
  
Absolute nothingness: no sound, no movement, no solid ground nor walls around you. Nothing but you, Sans, and miniscule flickers of something else within the black. An embodiment of abyss, the mere concept of nothing presented itself before you as a physical plane, or perhaps it was the total _lack_ of physicality.  
  
For once you did not find yourself falling, no air rushed by to indicate you were even moving at all within the darkness. Loose hems on your clothes and stray locks of hair bobbed in the air as you simply floated, and you wondered if air even existed here, as you hadn't taken another breath yet.  
  
An experience akin to being submerged within viscous ink, that denied even gravity its right, as if the very laws of nature dared not enter this place. Even time seemed irrelevant as you simply existed within the darkness yet the same instant it held the potential for every infinite possibility. There were flashes of something similar to light, like visions or mirages, but your tiny, insignificant human brain could not comprehend nor process the windows into endless realities that flickered around you.  
  
The abyss swallowed up everything as you and Sans clung to each other, his grip as enveloping as the dark nothingness. You peered up, frightened and afraid. One of his eye sockets hollow and as dark as the space around you, the other ablaze with the colour of his magic and smoking a pale blue.  
  
“don’t let go.” He whispered as he held you close, voice too loud in the quiet, yet it sounded too far away and dulled by distance.  
  
Everything was wrong here. A sudden rising static hissed in your ears and it somehow sounded… sentient. The longer you stayed the more you felt like an unwanted guest; a violation, as if the space was awake and aware of your presence, rejecting you and your _audacity_ to be real.  
  
Your fists clung fiercely to the sides of Sans’ damp jacket, fingers wrinkling the thick material to avoid floating away. Fabric shifted smoothly over solid bone, pocketing within the spaces between his ribs. It was all too much too quickly, and you found yourself closing your eyes to find safety in the more tangible darkness behind your eyelids. A skeletal hand pressed your face into his chest and you focused all of your energy upon the feeling, letting it become the singular point of existence that mattered.  
  
The droning static crackled in your ear and you couldn't tell if you were hearing patterns, like siren songs and venomous speech, or whether your stimulation-deprived brain imagined it.  
  
Jealous of your corporeal contact, the static reached out. It probed underneath your skin, leaving your bony tingling and numb. You whimpered and flinched away, terrified of what the darkness could hide.

  
  
An incalculable amount of time later, which in reality happened to be only seconds, the empty and so immeasurably large void gave way to the vaguely familiar sight of the Skeleton’s front room. Your knees collapsed when your feet hit delightfully solid floor, but Sans supported your weight to keep you upright.  
  
“shh, shh. it’s okay, i’ve got’chya.” the bones of his fingers stroked at your hair as he cooed soothing words.  
  
“Wha- What was tha-at?” Your heart hammered in your throat and you were certain the thumping resonated in your voice.  
  
“i’ll explain later, but first let’s get warm. this snow is even makin’ my bones shiver!” He snorted and helped you stand upright.  
  
  
The warmth of the Skeleton’s house made you realise how cold it had gotten out in the storm, and you were only more grateful for the shelter. Sticky damp clothes clung to your skin and caused you to shiver in Sans’ arms. His jacket hadn’t fared much better, and he eventually had to let you go to peel it off. Your fingers were pale and trembling so much that you could barely grip onto your zipper, pruny fingers sliding from the cold metal.  
  
“c’mon, let's get you out of those wet clothes.” The skeleton hummed, sounding concerned as he flicked his shoes away, studying your face. Absentmindedly he flicked a wrist before helping remove your coat, his own jacket on the floor warping in a pale blue aura. It floated, dangling limply within the blue, and hung itself neatly upon a rack above a radiator.

“hah, like i said: i’ll explain later.” He chuckled at your perplexed expression, using pale fingers to hang your own coat next to his, and you shot him a glare. Papyrus hadn't seemed to notice your arrival, staring at the blaring TV.  
  
“kid, relax. i ain’t tryna jump your bones! you need to clean off the gross waterfall stench, and a shower will warm you up.” He assured, hand upon your elbow to guide you go the bathroom.

  
  
Soon steam filled your lungs and soothed your mind. Your heart rate had finally slowed, but something within your chest squeezed; the unknown made you soul feel uneasy and anxious.  
  
“uh, test this. skeletons can kinda tell that something’s hot or cold, but like, not exactly feel it, if you know what i mean?” he pulled his bare arm from the shower and shook the water from his bones. Standing back to let you pass, he watched you carefully.  
  
You nodded happily with a hand under the stream, the water warm and tempting. You habitually wiped your hand upon your sleeve, despite it being too soggy to absorb any more water.  
  
“not too hot? you can’t have it too hot or you might go into shock, or whatever. don’t want you gettin’ sick again, or you'll be forced to eat my brother’s “chicken surprise soup”.  
  
You quirked an eyebrow as you pulled your socks off, thankful to be free from the cold fabric. The warm steam misted against your toes and helped take off the edge of the chill.  
  
“the surprise is we don’t have chickens underground, so you have to use your imagination. and we don’t always have the vegetables in, so more often than not it’s a bowl of hot water with salt and pepper. the novelty soon wears as thin as the soup.”  
  
You shuddered animatedly in disgust and he laughed so loudly that you hoped Papyrus couldn’t hear over the television downstairs. Sans thought the same but wasn’t even sure his brother looked up from the TV as you both walked past, not tearing his eyes from the screen as he excitedly shouted “METTATON IS PREPARING A STARBERRY SOUFFLÉ WITH CRABAPPLE CROUTONS”.

  
You rolled your eyes as Sans continued giggling, eyes squeezed shut as he shook, and you loudly cleared your throat.  
  
“heh heh... oh, yeah. sorry.” He quickly turned his back to you, “but hurry up in there, these clothes are makin’ me feel nasty and i’m startin’ to smell like fusty water!”  
  
As you turned away to undress, he tugged his shirt off and threw if to the ground, making a wet slap against the cold tiles and his damp bones could finally breathe. He stepped through the door and left it ajar so he could hear you clearly.

He slid down the hallway wall, soggy feet and shorts dampening the carpet, and he leant a rounded shoulder against the wood.  
  
“Memind me a’ain why dhou’re stayin’ oud there while I shuwer?” your voice muffled through the fabric of your shirts as you pulled all three layers over your head at once, with much awkward wriggling. Quickly pulling your pants from your legs, you darted into the water to hide from view and before the cold air could reach your skin. You sighed as you stood under the shower, water easing away the cold and calming your soul.  
  
“Because, if I remember correctly, your eyes seem to have a habit of wandering where they shouldn't.” you scolded playfully, voice raised slightly over the noise of the shower. Blissfully warm water caressed over your body and you reached around blindly for the soap, water dripping down your hair and into your eyes. The frosted glass around the tub helped cover you, but you kept your back to the door, just in case.  
  
“hey kid, my intentions ain’t always so perverse. we don’t know if your li’l outing has made you sick again.” he answered honestly, “and if you pass out in there, you’d give yourself a concussion, or drown in the fuckin’ water if left alone for long enough!” and Sans was glad you couldn’t see him blush as he vividly remembered the previous night’s awkward interaction.  
  
He had no idea you would begin undressing so quickly when he left you in the bathroom on the first night, but in retrospect he should have knocked when re-entering. Humans, as it turned out, were much like skeletons when it came to nakedness and privacy concerns, Sans had finally concluded. The rest of that night he had tried distracting himself with writing, but often found himself remembering how similar your anatomy was to his own, yet so remarkably different. Your smooth skin had glistened with sweat, muscle and fat creating beautifully soft curves, and he desperately wanted to see how far the differences went. That was only for scientific study, he told himself, yet grew flustered at the thought of being close to you once more; seeing your bones shift underneath your skin as you moved, collarbones peeking out from your shirts and jaw hinging as you spoke.  
  
“Pretty sure that I’m fine. A little confused at most. Why would I pass out?” You asked, confident that your legs were steadier, and you were happy you were no longer in that place, wherever it was.  
  
“what, besides from my _drop_ -dead gorgeous good looks?” he called smugly and then mumbled, “i just want to make sure you're okay…” unsure if you could hear as you began to hum happily. He pressed his carpal bones into closed eye sockets as he thought about droplets of water falling from your hair, slowly trickling down your body.  
  
“travelling like that isn’t easy the first few times. ‘surprised your stomach didn’t do that weird thing of regurgitating its acid. how did evolution decide it was a good idea to acid _inside_ the body? gross.” he spoke louder, touching his forehead to his knees, mostly rambling to distract himself from this thoughts.  
  
The vomiting initially worried him, but at the time you had muttered something about it being “another gross mammal thing”, and he became incredibly fascinated by all the facets of your physiology, personality, mental capacity; everything that made you human. It wasn’t part of the plan to actually enjoy your company.  
  
After his first night spent watching you within the tree hollow, he had decided to write an observational journal, keeping a log of habits like eating and sleeping, and later how the symptoms of your hypothermia had manifested. The scientist within him deemed it only right to use the opportunity to study your behaviours. It was miraculous he was in such close contact with an adult human for extended periods of time, given how Monster’s only contact since the barrier’s creation had been children, with many years spanning between each fall.

There was only so much to be learnt from often weak or even violent children, as they knew little about the world around them and were easily distracted. So far he had only conducted small experiments regarding your attention span and distractions, and they did little to deter you once you got your teeth in; so much more determined and less naive than children.

It filled him with excitement to ask you about the Surface, their technology, advances in medicine, different cultures, and how things had changed. He had studied records from before the barrier, records from before he was born and even notes taken by professors on the fallen humans, though this knowledge was often forgotten by the rest of the Monsters. He wanted to know everything you had to offer, to improve Monsterkind’s life Underground, and you were the key. He was eager to shower, get to his room and make notes on how you were affected by travelling through the void. The smallest pieces of information could help further down the line and he smiled, hopeful it could be of use.  
  
  
You rinsed the last bubbles of shampoo from your hair and Sans could smell the chemically floral scent. At first, he had questioned Papyrus’ purchasing choices, but quickly grew used to MTT branded products about the house as his brother’s obsession grew.  
  
Yet for some reason, smelling it upon your hair made him grind his teeth. It smelt new, changed and morphed into something wonderful as it mixed with your scents. He wondered if your skin would retain its natural sweetness underneath the sharp tang of soap.  
  
  
The water stopped as you turned a dial, final tiny droplets from the crude shower head still warm upon your shoulders. You pulled a fluffy towel from the rail, still facing away from potentially prying eye-lights. All wrapped up with the towel tucked around your body, you turned around and snickered at the sight of Sans bare elbow propping the door open. You wondered if making a joke about hide-and-seek would be understood within monster society.  
  
“I’m decent!”

he turn as you tapped him on the shoulder through the gap, slowly inching an eye socket open, face not betraying his half relief-half disappointment that you were fully covered.  
  
“So.” you began, growing tired of the subject moving so quickly away from the answers you wanted, “What was that place?” your voice straining as you wanted to get straight to the point. Hugging the towel against your ribs, you were thankful it was wide enough to cover from above your chest to below the knee, and so long that it wrapped around you twice. It made you feel safe from his devilish smiles.  
  
“that’s a pretty open-ended question, sweetie.” Sans smirked. You often found the quirk amusing because he obviously thought himself oh-so entertaining, but the unusual condescending tone made your soul flare in frustration.  
  
“For fuck sake, you, you- ugh! Don’t be obtuse! You know damn well what I mean!” Irritated, you tried to pull the door closed to hide in the misty bathroom, but the skeleton’s hand gripped against the wood.  
  
“hey, calm down. i’m kidding!” His mused for a second, teeth splitting into a grin, “unless you prefer being called somethin’ else?” his smile was sly as he jumped to his feet, you scoffed and pushed the door, squaring up to his much larger frame.  
  
“No!” you huffed indignantly and bristled in irrittion.  
  
“what about ‘darling’ instead?” he teased, closing in.  
  
“Why aren’t you answering my question?” You balked and shook your head.  
  
“or perhaps ‘baby’?” he asked coily, failing to hold back a mischievous chuckle.  
  
“Ugh, no! I’m usually pretty patient, but now you're trying to antagonise me. Answer me, Sans! What the hell was that place?” You glared, nervousness made stomach flip in anticipation. Or was it excitement? You were so pent up that you couldn't really tell, just a mixture of rushing emotions that swirled at the pit of your stomach.  
  
“‘sweetheart’?” his voice lowered as he stooped to meet your face.  
  
“T-that’s old fashioned. Just call me whatever you like. B-but, please, be nice and answer me!” your voice faltered and you looked away, trying to hide your apprehension by staring across the hallway and studying the empty living room.  
  
“kitten?” he asked darkly and cocked his head, voice almost a purr as he loomed over you.

  
Unable to look directly at him, you opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat and left as an incomprehensible stutter. Your heart skipped and you couldn't tell if your skin was warm from the water or yet another Sans-induced blush. You felt exposed in just the towel, but suddenly craved closeness.  
  
“ohh, so that’s what you like? you look so cute all flustered…”  his voice was serious, a low rumble that started deep within his chest, “well okay, kitten, i’ll play nice.”  
  
If you weren't blushing before, you certainly were now. A furious flush made your body entirely too warm and turned your cheeks rosy. You let out low shallow breaths through parted lips as the warmth settled below your stomach. Sans hesitated, eyes searched yours for any resistance, and body language of rejection, but your eyes softly half closed as his fingers hooked your chin, forcing you to look up at him.  
  
Crumbling resolve, Sans fought to maintain control when you subconsciously leant into his hand, and your breath hitched when a skeletal arm wrapped around your waist. The last hints of his smirk dropped and he huffed out the breath he was holding. Swiftly, you were pushed fully against the door frame as he brought his body to yours.

“or maybe i want to play a little rough?” he growled and a deft hand slipped against the back of your neck, thumb running against the ridges where skull meets spine. Your hands were trapped in between your bodies, fingers splayed across his broad bare ribcage, and the hand around your waist gripped tighter. You whimpered and arched into his touch, towel slipping down your back.  
  
  
After Sans’ admission besides the Echo Flower, you had caught yourself in a fleeting daydream, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. His ‘lips’ were bone but appeared so malleable whenever you watched him speak, and his teeth were large, broad grins revealed some were sharply pointed. You wondered what he tasted like, what he wet blue tongue would feel like on yours.  


But you wanted the truth. You had left Toriel behind, distraught in the Ruins, in search for answers only few monsters had. Lust be damned, nothing would stop you getting them. Courage surged through you, brought on by residual adrenaline and you pushed him back.

“Why aren’t you answering me?” you hissed and that horrible wanderlust nagged in your head again.

Sans stumbled backwards from the sudden force against his ribs, startled wide eyes and cheekbones flushed blue.

“i- sorry,” he rubbed a hand against the back of his skull, looking not in the least bit sorry, “s’just fun to tease you.”

“That's pathetic. Grow up!” you floundered and gripped the towel tighter to your chest before stomping back into the bathroom. Slamming the door against the frame made the balcony’s banisters vibrate, and the clicking of the lock signalled the conversation was over.

 

“shit…” the skeleton breathed and flopped his head back, dropping his arms dramatically. He was angry. Frustrated with himself for letting his guard drop and then upsetting you. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if you could understand his explanations or even _accept_ his answers, but he wanted to try. If you left, he would have no-one to answer his questions, so he could understand your frustration. Maybe there was some arrangement that could be reached? He continued to think as you clattered about in the bathroom, grumbling and muttering foul things to yourself. A gentle smile touched his teeth, genuinely finding himself drawn to you. But he knew what could happen if you lingered Underground too long...

  
  
“SANS! LUNCH IS NEARLY READY!”  
  
Sans jumped and span on his heels when he heard the floorboards of the stairs creaking.  
  
“SANS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHY AREN’T YOU DRESSED?  Papyrus placed his fists on his hipbones, tapping a foot impatiently.  


“i- uh, just. ya’no-” he stammered, too caught in thought to come up with a convincing little white lie.  
  
“Sorry Papyrus, Sans was just waiting for me to get him some clean socks.” You piped up as you swung the bathroom door open, fully dressed with damp hair and wearing a tiny subtle smirk. Both skeletons turned, shocked mouths open. You held out your old and damp pair of socks, and Sans nodded quickly, shoving them into the damp pocket of his shorts.

“uh, yeah, that. thanks.” He tried to catch up.

“OH! HELLO SANS’ FRIEND. I’M SORRY, I NOT SEE YOU ARRIVE, SO I’M AFRAID I HAVE NOT PREPARED ENOUGH FOR US ALL TO EAT.” He looked apologetic, and then suspicious again.

“It’s okay, I have supplies. Thanks anyway.” You shrugged, feeling awkward under his gaze. Papyrus gave a curt nod and turned sharply to his brother.

“I HOPE YOU HAVEN'T BEEN “LOSING” SOCKS TO YOUR CRAZY EXPERIMENTS AGAIN?" He raised his fingers to sign air quotes, "I REFUSE TO BUY YOU MORE SOCKS! OR BAKING SODA!” Clearly this was a recurring incident and, currently, you were more than happy to help dig Sans’ grave.

“no, they're just, uh, missing.” Sans grinned sheepishly and whispered from the corner of his mouth, something about an unfortunate volcano incident.  
  
“FINE, BUT HURRY UP. SANS, YOUR SANDWICHES ARE ON THE TABLE AND THEY'RE STARTING TO MELT!” The tall skeleton took the stairs in three quick strides and disappeared into the kitchen.  
  
“You owe me!” You lowered your voice and fixed Sans with a stare, prodding his arm with an accusatory finger.  
  
“i have an idea, trust me! c’mon, or pap’s food is going to get incredibly inedible.” he smiled softly and he trailed behind as you walked away, shaking your head in doubt.

  
  
"i never did get chance to shower..." Sans muttered grumpily and took a seat at the table. From the corner of his eyes, he watched you flop onto the sofa, pulling cans of food and a knife from your bag.

A solution had neatly presented itself and Sans wasn’t stupid enough to mess it up again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR:  
> Sans and Reader have to make a quick get away in case Asgore is still lurking around Waterfall, so they "teleport"/travel, floating through a mysterious and very dark place.  
> Reader is afraid of what the darkness could be hiding as something like static reaches out, making Reader's skin tingle unpleasantly and the static sound grows louder.  
> What seems like an age, but turns out to be only seconds later, they both suddenly reappear at the Skeleton Brother's house! Reader is determined to get answers from Sans about what just happened, and he dodges the questions, stating he'll explain later.
> 
> Sans is concerned that when Reader run out into the snow, they may have become ill again and he wishes to moniter their health. Incase they fall i.e go into shock from hot water and pass out, Sans stays outside the bathroom whilst reader showers, and they chat through the ajar door.
> 
> Sans had been keeping an eye on Reader since their first night in the tree hollow, and has used the opportunity of being in close contact with an adult human to write a log journal. Detailing Reader's habits, health etc, and he is curious to find out more from a, adult, as opposed to easily-distracted human children, that fall sometimes years apart from one another. He has tried small experiments on Reader regarding distractions, testing their attention span, and he has found they're not so easily swayed.
> 
> He is excited to ask questions about Surface technology, medicine, culture and anything that could potentially help improve and advance Monsterkind's life Underground. 
> 
> Reader cleans up and then demands answers about what happened and how. Sans dodges the questions again and to distract them, he begins to tease them, asking which nickname they prefer; baby, sweetheart, darling etc. Reader grows flustered when he suggests "kitten" and seeing their reaction, he (tries really really hard) resisted the urge to kiss them. Reader also wonders what it would be like to smooch the skeleton. 
> 
> They then grow angry that Sans is being purposely antagonising, and not letting them ask questions, so they argue and slam the bathroom door, leaving Sans alone in the hallway. 
> 
> He quickly realises if they left, he wouldnt have any answers about the surface, and understands how frustrating it is being in the dark. He tries to think of a way to come up with a compromise, when Papyrus comes up stairs, telling Sans that lunch is ready. He asks Sans what he's doing standing around in the hallway and before he can answer, reader exits the bathroom. They say Sans wanted to borrow some socks and Papyrus buys into the lie, as Sans seems to lose socks on a regular basis to crazy experiments.
> 
> Papyrus was too busy watching TV when they first returned to even notice Reader was back too, and hadnt prepared enough food for them too. Reader explains they have food supplies, o it's okay, but Papyrus remains suspicious of them.
> 
> As they all head to the dining area, Reader says that Sans "owes them" for bailing him out and Sans has a briliant idea for a solution.
> 
> After everything, Reader ends up eating from a can (probably cold beans but anything is better than Papyrus' apparently frozen sandwiches) and Sans never ended up taking a shower. Ew.
> 
> *more confetti*


	15. Burnt Umber and Dutch Courage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wondered why this chapter was taking me so long to write, and then I realised it's twice as long as the rest, hahah, whoops! Anyway, I'm sorry for the delay! 
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains mentions of alcohol and drinking, though nothing bad happens as a result. Li'l bit of playful smutty-talk in the middle, but no actual smut.

  
Utility knife poised in hand, you struck. The metal of the can whined in protest and gave a harsh metallic cry as you sawed around the lid. Metal on metal screeched with each fluid movement, leaving jagged edges and sharp points. Orange liquid slipped down the side when you pulled the knife out.  
  
The skeleton brothers’ conversation at the dinner table petered out as they turned to watch you peel back the top of the can and lick sauce from your fingers. They looked at each other and simultaneously shrugged.  
  
You shuffled back into the sofa and crossed your legs, resting elbows upon your knees as you ate. You used the unsharpened edge of the knife to shovel overly-sweet baked beans into your mouth, eyes trained upon the muted television as you physically felt the Skeletons staring. The robot appeared to be somewhat of a sensation Underground, you thought, licking juice from the corner of your mouth.  
  
Last time you had watched TV, you recalled them present the news, then a documentary and now a cooking programme. Jealousy panged as the squat grey robot whip fresh egg-whites and you looked down to your own lunch. Sans was clearly lying about the lack of chickens underground, unless the eggs used were from some strange hybrid animal? You chewed thoughtfully on another mouthful of the beans. While they were perfectly edible, the juice was watery and bland, but you wanted to save the nice preserved food for later.  
  
  
Papyrus had fallen quiet, and that concerned you. His natural demeanour seemed loud and bubbly, so the worry and uneasiness didn’t sit right with his exuberant nature. You listened into the conversation, and even though the tall skeleton had dropped his voice, it wasn't difficult to hear. He gave his best impression of a whisper as he spoke,  
  
“Sans… PSSSSST! SANS!” He leant across the table as his brother turned and cocked his head.  
  
“sup bro?” he smiled, trying not to laugh at the almost hushed voice, and his brother accidentally dipped the ends of his scarf into their lunches as he hunched closer.  
  
“Is your friend okay? They look a little… grumpy. Did they manage to finish running their errands before the storm hit?” He sounded concerned and his brow bone dipped.  
  
“nah, not angry, just bone tired. didn’t quite accomplish what they wanted, but there’s snow reason for them to lose their sled over it.” Sans spoke a little louder in case you were listening in.  
  
Ignoring the joke, Papyrus' voice dropped even quieter and actually managed a discrete volume.  
  
“Will they be staying the night again, or shall I escort them to the Inn?” He faked a casual smile, but Sans could easily read his brother. But he wasn’t quite sure why Papyrus had been avoiding you. You both seemed to engage in and enjoy each other’s company whilst testing puzzles, so his sudden apprehension was strange. Had you said or done something to upset him? Protectivity jerked through his bones.  
  
“hey, it's okay, paps. you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. i know you’ve not had much time to get to know each other, but i’m a good judge of character.’ Sans leant forward and his elbows hit the tabletop with a ‘thunk’.  
  
“actually, i was going to ask you if they could stay here for a while ‘cause there's nowhere else for them t’go.” He was thinking on the fly, hating the half-truths, but it pained him to see his brother uncomfortable.  
  
“but, if it makes you feel better, I can go book them a room at the inn until we figure something out?” Sans glanced over to you slurping up the last of your beans and tipping the final contents straight into your mouth. Papyrus relaxed and snuck glances your way.  
  
“That’s a good idea! I would never ask if there were no alternatives, and I’m sure the Inn will be much more comfortable than the couch! I’m sorry if you were looking forward to spending time with them, but there’s always time when you’re not working?”  
  
Papyrus jumped up with a smile, seemingly pacified and gathered empty plates from the table.  
  
  
  
Sans slumped further into his seat before pulling out his phone. Beta testing an underground weather tracker for Dr. Alphys was taking longer than expected, tweaking code as he hit glitches or errors, but the application was coming along nicely. It was useful given the unpredictable nature of flurries in Snowdin, and now it could even predicted heat vector cycles in Hotland and the Core. Their aim was to get to a real time tracking system, and a detailed approximation of the next 24 hours. Progress was being made as he tapped away at the screen; the lastest version had narrowed their real time readout to only a 10 minute delay.  
  
He hummed. According to the current weather breakdown, the next couple of hours would be a little quieter on the storm front, so there would be time to go out without being battered by snow. He casually made his way over to the sofa and stood between you and the TV. You glared up at him, forced annoyance upon your face, even though the sing-along Mettaton music videos were rather useless with the TV muted, but entertaining nonetheless.  
  
“ya’no, we do have cutlery. and food.”  
  
You shrugged nonchalantly. There was a reason you packed thoroughly, not knowing if you would have easy access to food on your journey. Now that you had unwittingly accepted help, you didn't want to rely on the Skeletons for everything.  
  
“suit yourself kid- uh, bud.” He frowned down at you. “well, i figured out how to pay you back for earlier. i’ll answer your questions.”  
  
Your smiling eyes gleamed in the light of the television that wasn't blocked by Sans’ stocky frame. Finally, you were getting somewhere!  
  
“but,” The skeleton held up a finger, “i have a couple of conditions. you gotta come with me, i’ll explain as we go.”  
  
Nodding eagerly, you flipped the knife back into its case and began stuffing things back into your bag. Sans’ eye lights dimmed as he watched you stow the knife in your pocket. For some reason the knowledge of you carrying a weapon made him feel a little uneasy.  
  
“we’re heading out. pack up and get something warm on. don’t worry, we're not going far.” his teeth seemed to form a solid wall of bone as he smiled, swallowing his worry. Justifying you were too weak to use it even if you wanted to, he turned towards the stairs. “let me just get some things first.”  
  
  
Excitement hummed through your body but dipped as you spotted the lanky skeleton gathering empty glasses, glancing over and frowning when he thought you weren’t looking.  
  
“It’s really cold today.” the attempt at small talk was forced, but you wanted to reach out and mend the awkwardness that had arisen between you.  
  
“You should be warmer in your own clothes that actually fit.” He grumbled to himself, sadly just loud enough for you to hear. Discontent tumbled against sadness in your gut. It was a given fact of life; you would not always be on friendly terms with everyone you met. Many factors surrounded the reasonings as to why, but plainly put, some people just couldn't see eye to eye. There was a distant recollection of someone imparting such wisdom, told to you many years ago by someone with a gruff voice and a tired smile. You couldn’t place who it was and heaved a sigh, watching Papyrus wipe down the table top. It was a mystery why his warm disposition had suddenly been replaced with apprehension. You wondered if you had offended him, perhaps breaching some unspoken Monster house-guest etiquette.  
  
He froze as you caught him glowering and mumbling to himself.  
  
“Papyrus,” You spoke up, voice soft and looked him straight in the eyelights. “why do you hate me?”  
  
“OH? I, uhm, I’M NOT SURE WHAT YOU MEAN?” He wrung his hands nervously.  
  
“Have I done something to upset you? I’m sorry if I have…” You frowned deeply, studying the empty can in your hands.  
  
“IT’S JUST, how do I put this… A BIT STRANGE, THIS SITUATION.” He straightened up and gently placed the damp dish cloth over his armoured shoulder.   
  
“IT IS JUST YOUR LUCK THAT THE GREAT PAPYRUS THOROUGHLY ENJOYS HOSPITABLY ENTERTAINING PUZZLE-LOVING GUESTS! YET SUDDENLY, YOU APPEARED OUT OF NOWHERE, FOLLOWING US AROUND SNOWDIN AND BARELY SAYING A WORD. AT FIRST I THOUGHT YOU WERE ONE OF THOSE UNKIND CAPITAL DWELLERS THAT DON’T SPEAK TO MONSTERS LESS WELL-OFF THAN THEMSELVES. GENERALLY MONSTERS LIKE YOURSELF, CLEARLY SO UNUSED TO THE COLD, AVOID SNOWDIN ALTOGETHER!” He crossed his arms over his chest, bones clanking against the metal plate as he paused almost dramatically, as if his anger was simply another exaggeration. “ALSO, I DON'T THINK SANS HAS EVEN MENTIONED YOU BEFORE, BUT NOW YOU'RE HERE, SPENDING ALL OF YOUR TIME WITH HIM, BORROWING HIS CLOTHES AND STAYING OVER UNANNOUNCED. BUT YOUR SUDDEN APPEARANCE HAS CAUSED SANS TO ACT STRANGELY, ALMOST SECRETIVE, AND HE GIVES YOU THESE VERY STRANGE LOOKS… LIKE HE’S CAUTIOUS AND WATCHING YOUR EVERY MOVE... So, tell me.”  
  
Subconsciously he puffed out his chest and your heart danced as he fixed you with a glower. You didn’t like the prospect of his unuttered questions.  
  
“What, exactly, are your intentions with my brother?”  
  
Relief crashed upon you at the conjectural question, flooding you with embarrassment and your face burnt at Papyrus’ presumption. The picture of you chasing after Sans romantically made you squirm. And then it dawned upon you: Sans hadn't explained the situation yet. Papyrus was unaware you were human and the dangers you faced. Your mouth gaped open, struggling to find the right words.  
  
“Papyrus, I don't have any intentions with your brother. We’re just-” you fought back a laugh and faltered, unsure where your current acquaintanceship stood with Sans, ”We’re just friends.” You figured it best for Sans to break the news, knowing how to handle his brother’s reaction.  
  
“You see, I’ve been sick and got lost in Snowdin. Actually, I’ve been dangerously ill and really quite lost, and Sans has been helping me.”  
  
“YOU’RE SICK? HAVE YOU BEEN DRINKING THE BAD WATER? DO YOU NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL?” Papyrus looked stricken, taking a step back as if the very air around you were contagious.  
  
“Uh, no. It’s a-uhm,” Shit. Clearly the water was a problem here too, but you couldn't think of what would be believable to monsters, “it’s a magic thing.” You tried to say with a tone of vague finality, but it came out in stammers and stutters.   
  
“OOOOoooohhh,” His exclamation trailed off, quirking his head like an inquisitive child.  
  
“IS IT A SPECIES THING?  
  
You nodded quickly, hair fluffing around your ears as you squeaked, “Yes! It’s personal!”  
  
Papyrus cringed and awkwardly shifted his weight from one large foot to the other, looking as embarrassed as you felt.  
  
His eyes searched yours as your voice occasionally croaked, “T-to be honest, I didn’t trust Sans when we first me, but he saved my life. If he hadn’t found me… Well, I’d rather not think about it. He’s protected me from a lot of danger and I don’t know how to repay either of you for your kindness...” A sad smile touched upon your lips.  
  
“Ah, I see… So my brother has been helping you in a time of need? I, hm, I wasn’t aware. In hindsight, I jumped to a rather strange conclusion. I could've sworn given the way he looks at you sometimes- well that is just another misinterpretation.”  
  
Both your bodies slumped, no longer strung tight within the tension.  
  
“Regardless, I apologise for my behaviour, Sans’ Friend. The Great Papyrus always aims to be The Greatest of Papyruses, but all of this Human drama has gotten me rather worked up! To be frank, I’m anxious for my brother’s safety and it’s gotten to the point where I am suspicious of everything.” the exhaustion slowly became evident as his face fell, tall brow bone dropping.  
  
“Apparently some Humans lash out in fear, and thought Sans is very quick and intelligent, he is … rather weak. That is to say, he can certainly survive without his Great Brother to protect him, but his low HP concerns me…” he wavered and fidgeted as if shrinking in on himself, “Some Monsters think of me as stupid or naive, but I am more perceptive than given credit for… I often worry that Sans uses his humour as a defence mechanism, and he has the tendency to exacerbate things by making light of the situation. Too often I worry that he may come to harm by not taking things seriously.”  
  
“Nobody knows where the human is or even if they have succumb to the elements. They've been hidden for so long that someone must be helping them! It is becoming difficult for me to trust other Monsters, and I don’t know if I can trust that Sans will keep himself safe. Should I ask Captain Undyne to train him in self-defence?” You were unsure whether Papyrus was still talking to you, or musing aloud to himself.  
  
“Hah, yeah. Maybe the human is dead already?” You forced yourself to let out an awkward chuckle, followed by clearing your throat to give yourself time to think.  
  
“Regardless, it’s a valid concern. You're only looking out for your brother, but… trust is a funny thing.” You spoke slowly, unconsciously mimicking his posture, shoulders hunched forward as you hugged your arms across your chest.  
  
“There's that phrase that ‘trust must be earned’, but I think that's wrong. it’s not something to be won and I don’t think Sans has to prove himself. It’s, uhm- it’s more like a never-ending process. It's not keeping score or sticking to conditions, because sometimes you have no choice but to put your faith in someone else.” You shrugged, hoping your rambling was restoring even a shred of confidence in his brother.  
  
“Like how Sans has never given me a reason to doubt why he's helping me. Sometimes we just have to trust they’re doing the right thing, ya’no?”  
  
Boney fingers reflectively tapped upon equally boney elbows and Papyrus gave a quick nod, lights of his eyes growing less dim in relief.   
  
“I WILL JUST HAVE TO TRUST THAT THE ROYAL GUARD WILL FIND THE HUMAN, DEAD OR ALIVE, AND MY BROTHER WILL NOT PUT HIMSELF IN ANY DANGER. I SHOULD KNOW HE WOULDN'T DO THAT ANYWAY, BUT ANXIETY HAS A TENDENCY TO CLOUD MY JUDGEMENT. I APOLOGISE AGAIN THAT I HAVE ACTED WITH SUCH HOSTILITY.” he held the damp cloth aloft triumphantly, clouded water flicking around the room as he waved it.  
  
“AND I KNOW YOU’LL BE MORE COMFORTABLE THAN TOSSING AND TURNING ON THE SOFA! Though, I do feel that if you are still not well, you can always come back here for help... DO NOT DUST YOURSELF BECAUSE YOU’RE BEING LIKE MY STUBBORN, LAZYBONES BROTHER!  
  
Every time you were beginning to feel like you were on top of a situation, sudden confusion snatched it from underneath your feet. What did he mean? Did Papyrus know where you were going? You tried to nod sincerely as you could, hoping that was a neutral enough reaction to talk about “dusting” yourself.  
  
“It’s okay: you're protecting Sans and trying to keep him safe, but sometimes it's good to step back once you realise you might be getting too caught up in things.” you rocked on your heels, “Self-perspective, or whatever.   
  
“I CAN SEE WHY SANS IS YOUR FRIEND, SANS’ FRIEND: YOU GIVE GREAT ADVICE! I KNOW OF ANOTHER MONSTER WHO DOES NOT TALK SO MUCH, AND WHEN THEY DO, IT'S USUALLY APOLOGISING FOR NOTHING AT ALL! THEY'RE VERY SWEET AND CONSIDERATE, SO I SHOULD NOT HAVE JUDGED YOU FOR SOMETHING YOU CANNOT HELP.” He chattered away happily as he finished wiping the table. “HERE, LET ME PUT THAT IN RECYCLING FOR YOU!”  
  
  
You caught yourself smiling as he took the empty food tin and Sans finally reappeared from his room, wearing a thick scarf and too-large socks that bunched around his ankles. Grinning, he locked the door behind him and gestured you towards the front door.  
  
“c’mon then, bud. let’s get goin’.” he slipped on shoes and you followed suit, grabbing your coat. As you hitched your bag further up your shoulder, you noticed Sans also carried a drawstring bag upon his back. It looked full to burst and something inside clinked and clanked with every step.  
  
“i’ll be back in a while, paps. don’t eat all those muffins while i’m out!” He called as you both stepped out into the snow, which had lightened considerably, though the sky remained brown and dull. Cold crisp air already bit at your exposed skin, and you wondered how much worse the storm would get.  
  
“N’AWWWW!” Papyrus cried as the door clicked shut and Sans’ shoulders wobbled as he chuckled.  
  
  
  
  
  
Snow was already building thick upon your lashes as the wind blasted your face, and you could only just make out the lumpy cobblestones of the path leading you onwards. Curiosity and excitement flurried around you as fast as the falling snow, and Sans lead you back towards the precinct and the decorative tree, past houses and wooden buildings. No monsters were around, too cozy in their homes with chimneys puffing thick smoke, telling of fires crackling away in their hearths.  
  
Stoic guards in pointed armour stood motionless by the roped off building, hulking grey masses amongst the white as immovable as the surrounding mountains.  
  
The skeleton waved, a sympathetic grimace upon his skull, and one guard gave a sombre nod as you passed, piled snow falling from their helmet with the small movement. As you walked faster to keep up the pace, their dark figures slowly disappeared, engulfed by the dense clouds of white.   
  
By a tall and wide building, Sans stopped in his tracks and you huddled closer into the wall mostly sheltered from the storm.   
  
You could barely read the signs above the alcove as the settled blanket lay so heavily upon the carved letters, but the orange glow of lights through large bay windows guided you to a doorway. The contents of Sans’ bag clinked along with the door chime and warmth engulfed your freezing body as he lead you into the bright lobby. Soft shades of amber and rust swathed the entrance, from the inviting couch along the wall, to a long, pine counter, and its matching picture frame that bordered a peaceful mountain landscape. You spied a small poster advertising a “Winter Special deal: Book three nights and receive your fourth night free! (Offer available for consecutive nights in double rooms only. Offer unavailable to Jerry.)”. An eyebrow raised, you turned to Sans, and opened your mouth to ask if you were in a hotel, but a voice made you jump and click your mouth shut in surprise.   
  
“Please, make yourself at home! I’ll be with you in two shakes of a bun’s tale!” someone called from beyond the paperwork littered desk. The figure rounded the corner of a painted orange hallway and their large teeth bore a grin as wide as the Skeleton’s.   
  
“Well hello there, Sans! I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.” The peach coloured bunny monster smiled and propped themselves upon the desk’s top by their furry elbows. Their large, watery pink eyes blinked at you and you smiled shyly.   
  
“And you’ve brought a friend too? I’m Coral, the keeper here at Snowed Inn. It’s lovely to meet you, Dear.” She said, voice high and nasally as she smiled softly. You nodded politely and shrunk further into your hood.   
  
“yeah, they're new to Snowdin and need lodgings for a while, at least until me an’ papyrus sort out the spare room for them. our couch ain’t fit for any monster to sit on, let alone sleep on.” He snorted and ran a boned fingertip along the glossy woodgrain. Nervous energy made you fidget in place, wiping your snow covered shoes upon the doormat, and you tried to remain patient as the monsters chattered. A distant, amused thought crossed your mind, and you were grateful the carpets were much less garish here.   
  
“-maybe a fortnight? but i’ll be staying to make sure they get settled okay.” You clutched your bag to your chest and your cheeks heated. Why would he be staying too?   
  
“Okay, let me just check which double beds we have available!” Coral nodded, her large floppy ears perked slightly as she flicked through a thick reservations book.   
  
“n-no, we’re-” He cleared his non-existent throat and stammered, “just a room with two single beds, please?”   
  
“Oh? Well, if you insist!” She tittered and covered her tiny mouth to giggle into a paw, and the lack of opposable thumbs didn’t hinder her scribbling notes onto a blank page.   
  
“Okay, that’s all booked in for you, Dear. You can always dial 1 on the phone to get through to reception if you need anything.”  She straightened the collar of her pale blue shirt and turned to Sans.   
  
“You can settle the bill once you’re checked out, and I’ll give you a discounted rate as thanks for fixing up those loose shingles last month! That leak was causing such a mess!” Coral rolled her eyes dramatically and slammed the book shut, the force of air rustled papers across the smooth wood. Her ears dropped as she stooped below the counter, retrieving a large key with sharp, complex teeth and a burgundy tab stamped with the numbers “0103”.   
  
“Room 3 is just up the stairs, third door on the right.” She gestured towards the stairwell besides a door marked “Employees Only” and waved her paw vaguely before dropping the key into Sans’ waiting palm. You skeletal guide led the way and Coral loudly whispered to you as you trailed behind,   
  
“You can always push the beds together if you change your minds!” Her small pink nose twitched, whiskers trembling as she spoke and you could only squeaked in response, before hastily jogging up the stairs after Sans.   
  
  
  
You sat cross legged on the plush vermillion bedding, watching Sans lock the door and begin pulling goodies from his bag. He kicked off his shoes and jammed his feet into pink bunny slippers, before scrambling onto the other bed, sheets wrinkling as he moved. The bag could easily be reached but instead he lazily flopped against the headboard, wood knocking against the carrots painted upon the wall. A drawstring hooked over a foot to drag the bag closer, he groaned at the effort and you rolled your eyes.   
  
“What are you doing?” you asked, pulling an oversized jumper over your head once the coal fire started burning. The room was neatly furnished with pine and hickory, lamps glowing gently to light the darkened corners, and the small space heated quickly. Fog spread slowly across the cold panes of glass, hiding the darkening sky.   
  
“supplies!” He grinned cheerily and wriggled out of his own jacket. The fire popped and cracked as you fluffed the down pillows, propping them up and easing yourself into the headboard. You sighed happily, relaxing into the bed as Sans produced several bottles of green and brown glass, and placed them next to two glasses on the side table separating your beds.   
  
“might as well have fun if we’re gunna be talking about shit for a while.” He said dryly, uncorking a bottle with a flick of a wrist and a hazy glow of blue magic. Opaque red liquid poured smoothly into the tumblers, clouding gentle plumes of cobalt blue smoke and you were sure you saw the air shimmering above the rim of the glass, like the sun’s heat miraging from bare concrete on a summer's day.   
  
“And what party is complete without snacks?” You joked, leaning closer to watch the liquid fizz. Re-corking the bottle, Sans dug around in the bag some more and threw several foil packets onto your bed.   
  
“gotchya covered! though, as much as i act the clown, sadly i don’t have any balloons.” His eye sockets squinted as he smiled, cheekbones dimpling.   
  
“Popato Chisps?” You read one packet, opening it to dubiously sniff the contents. They didn’t smell particularly bad. Better than baked beans, anyway.   
  
“i think you’ll find them pretty a-peeling , if you're willing to give them a fry .” He smirked, brow bones raised. Unexpectedly, they tasted just like they were from the surface, satisfyingly crunchy and salty. Sans’ fingertips and teeth clinked against the glass as he took a drink, clouds of blue curling away as he exhaled through his nasal cavity. He gave a satisfied sigh and suddenly turned to watch as you picked up the other glass.   
  
“wait. you said you're not a kid, but you’re old enough to drink on the surface, right? like, there’s alcohol restrictions?”   
  
“Oh, yeah. The laws change from place to place but I passed that years ago. I think…”   
  
You stared into the tumbler, watching the bubbles gently roll to the surface and pop.   
  
“well as long as you want to drink, you can. this stuff is hardly pure ethanol, s’magic too! humans used to enjoy monster booze before, ya’no, the war and stuff. the magic counteracts some negative effects of consuming alcohol, but we can also add different kinds of magic for different results!” His eyelights grew bright as he spoke animatedly, passionate and grinning. “for examply: grilbz, he’s a bartender, makes a special fireball aniseed bourbon that can make you breathe out thick black smoke for a few hours! there's a blue drink that comes in these weird little bottles that give you energy, like adrenaline or whatever humans make. i’ve also heard of this sparkly purple drink called that supposedly enhances libido.” he winked exaggeratedly and you couldn't help the laughter that bubbled from your chest.   
  
“So what’s this?” You asked, raising the glass in your hands.   
  
He shrugged, “i don’t know your tolerances to the more crazy drinks, so this one just enhances positive energy. s’called happy-go-lucky or something. you gotta let me know if you feel weird at any point, like sick or dizzy, okay?” He took another drink before sitting up and turning his body towards your bed.   
  
“so, i said in order to ask questions, you have to listen to me, and these are the ground rules.” he held up a boney finger on his free hand.   
  
“one: you've gotta stay here for the next few days.” You frowned, but had already guessed as much from the conversation you had overheard with Coral. Sans held up another finger.   
  
“two: you're not allowed outside this room without me, at least until the monsters get used to the sight of you, and we can gauge if anyone suspects you of anything.”     
  
You scoffed and sunk deeper into the cushions, mulling the conditions over as he spoke. At least Sans would offer protection should anything happen, but you weren't exactly pleased about needing an escort.   
  
“three: i’ve made something, and you need to wear it at all times, besides sleepin’ and showerin’ and whatever. don’t pull that face, it’ll become clear when you see it! he shrugged and held up a fourth finger, “four: in order to make this actually fun, we can both ask questions in turn, but the other has to answer as honestly as they can. i guess we each get to pass on just one question if it's a bit too weird. where was i? oh yeah, five… uh, i forgot, so i’m allowed to add a rule whenever.” He smirked dangerously and you sat up straighter.   
  
“It’s got to be within reason though, okay?” You grumbled and brought the glass to your lips. Floral, earthy sweetness hit your tongue and ran down your throat smoother than silk, leaving an aftertaste of roses and sharp mint. You hummed approvingly and took another sip. Sans shrugged unconvincingly and you tapped your nails upon the glass.   
  
“Okay, let's start with simple things first, and get to know each other better? What's your favourite food?"   
  
“ketchup!” he grinned and laughed as you grumbled.   
  
“What happened to answering honestly?” You straightened your shoulders. “So much for taking it seriously…” grumbling into your glass as you drank.   
  
“heha, i am being serious! i even brought some along tonight!” He reached down and pulled a plastic bottle of ketchup from behind his bag. You cringed.   
  
“That’s disgusting. Condiments aren't food!”   
  
“they are if you try hard enough.” Sans shrugged and dropped the bottle back into his pile of snacks. “okay, simple stuff… you got a favourite colour?”   
  
“Oh, blue! That’s an easy one.” You smiled but his look implored you for more. “Okay, not just any blue. But that really dark blue that's almost black, like midnight, but it shines like sapphire when it’s lighter. Or like looking to the bottom of a crystal clear but deep body of water.”   
  
“well that was poetic.” He suppressed a laugh, and though you were smiling, you held back from throwing the glass wrapped in your fingers, so settled upon an unopened packet of chisps.   
  
“hahah! i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” He snorted as the foil bag bounced harmlessly off his knee. Reaching over with the bottle of magic-infused liquid, he topped up your glass. The rosey drink slipped down so smoothly that you hadn't even realised your glass was empty.   
  
“What’s do you do for a living?”   
  
“i’m an exotic dancer. monsters are paying big money to see my boner .” Sans said without hesitation and you choked on the liquid in your mouth. Spluttering, you pressed a hand across your lips to stop anything spilling out and your eyes watered at the effort of gulping.   
  
“oh my stars!” Sans doubled over in laughter, his glass held an arms length away as his entire body shook. By the time your throat had recovered, he wiped tiny blue tears from his eye sockets. “oh man, that was awesome. you are too easy, kid!”   
  
You wiped away tears of your own and rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand. “Seriously?!” you asked, incredulous.   
  
“hahah, no way. monsters have more voluptuous tastes than my body, even if i am big boned . i’d make more money as the pole than the dancer.” He chuckled and tore open the packet of chisps you threw.   
  
“seriously though, i don’t have much going on right now. i used to work in the labs, studying molecular and theoretical physics. decided on a, uh, less hectic lifestyle, so we’ve just moved to snowdin. i’m helping out on a part time basis with the royal guard, but me and asgore don’t see eye-to-eye. i’m thinking of running my own business eventually.”   
  
“Theoretical physics? That sounds so difficult! What would you want to do now?” You were surprised. Your limited understanding of anything physics related required dedication and hard work, two things that were the very contradictory to Sans’ laid back nature.   
  
“that’s technically two questions!” Sans winked and tipped his glass in your direction.   
  
“But you said answer as fully and as honestly as you could!” You retorted, returning the exaggerated wink.   
  
“caught out by my own rules.” He huffed, blowing away blue smoke from his drink, “i dunno t’be honest. i’m thinking about selling coffee-on-a-stick, or hotdogs. something quiet where i can take a nap at my desk.” the skeleton paused, sinking into his pillows.   
  
  
Throughout drinking and quizzing, you discovered Sans enjoyed a similarly quiet life of reading and napping, likes the colour blue, takes time out of his day to speak to every monster he can, helps around Snowdin by babysitting and fetching groceries for some elderly monsters. The skeleton held a not-so-secret dislike for Mettaton, but couldn't pin down a particular reason why.  
  
  
  
Sans asked questions about the surface, and you tried your hardest to explain what little you remembered, ranging from medicine, science, the arts and religion, to things you barely kept track of, like local politics or recent historical events. After a while, you excused yourself and locked the door of the small bathroom. As soon as you were out of sight, he lunged across the bed and began scribbling notes into his journal. He was surprised at the wealth of knowledge you held, though there was much you had forgotten or simply didn’t know, it was all extracted from you easily.  
  
  
  
He shouted that your biological functions were weird as you relieved yourself, not dignifying the statement with any answers. Soapy suds ran down your fingers, hands scrubbing against one another under the tap and you studied the continuing orange theme across the peach coloured tiles and soft amber towels.  
  
  
  
“ya’no, it’s even weirder that your internal organs’re only held inside thanks to your skin!” Sans called through the closed door and you rolled your eyes. Apparently your body was somewhat of a novelty.  
  
The springs of the mattress groaned under your weight as you crawled across the bed, sitting hunched over the pillow in your lap, and you happily accepted another glass from Sans.  
  
  
  
“is it my turn?” you nod.  
  
  
  
“you have any idea why paps has been acting weird around you?”  
  
“It’s a little complicated. It would be best if you spoke to him about it, but basically he’s worried about you. He’s anxious because of the “human situation” and worries you aren't taking it seriously; that you’ll end up hurt.” To save Papyrus the embarrassment, you decided to omit the part where he adamantly suspected you were romantically pursuing Sans. Your earlier epiphany was confirmed as Sans groaned.  
  
“ah shit, i knew there was something i needed to do!”  
  
“But,” you continued, “it's gotten to the point where he’s taking these pent-up feelings out on others. Your brother feels like he can't trust anyone, except you, because no one knows where the human is or if they're violent.”  
  
The irony of the statement was not lost on Sans.  
  
“s’funny how i’m the only one he trusts, but in actuality, i'm the only monster who knows where this spooky scary human is.” He let out a weary chuckle. “maybe it's best that we don't tell him? i don’t think it will ease his worries knowing there’s a human right on our doorstep.” Contemplative, Sans rubbed at his jaw.  
  
“You know him best; he is your brother after all. I don’t mind keeping him in the dark to spare his conscience, but it’s your call.” The cool liquid eased your suddenly dry throat, and your fingers were growing tingly. It was a strangely pleasant feeling, almost like a tickling pins-and-needles that spread through your sprawled out limbs. “Though in his defense, I haven't exactly helped by randomly turning up, taking up all your time and then intruding at your house.”  
  
Snapping out from ruminating further, black eye sockets fixed you with a sharp stare.  
  
“don't do that. you're not bothering me or gettin’ under my feet, at all. i asked you to stay over so i can keep an eye socket on ya.”  
  
“Why are you helping me?” You cocked your head as you asked, the question you needed answers for, starting all the way back to your first encounter with the comedian.  
  
“uh. i dunno. we can just wait until another human falls and hope they're mean as shit so i won't feel bad? why’re you asking?” Boney shoulders shifted under the hanging fabric of his shirt as he moved. It was your turn to stare and his will crumbled.  
  
“ugh, really, i don’t know. maybe s’cause i hate asgore’s way of doing things, and seeing you so small and weak back in the forest… i just can't let him kill ya.”  
  
“So, is it through pity, or just wanting to spite the King?” your words came out more bitterly than intended.  
  
“neither! it seems pretty pointless to take another soul when we’d still need more afterwards. thought what makes you think you're not worth helping? you're vulnerable, and i wanna protect you.” He implored and watched you hunch into your pillow.  
  
“But why?” You grumbled into the fabric, words muffled by the thick stuffing.  
  
“because i can and because i want to. now, back to stupid questions! what’s your favourite animal on the surface?” you perked up suddenly, sitting upright and smiling at the question.  
  
“Definitely cats, those giant furry ones that could take down a small flock of birds. Well, they're my favourite pets anyway. Non-domesticated animals? Anything feline! Or pretty much any small, cute animal, like hedgehogs.”   
  
“What's the most embarrassing thing that's happened to you?” Your eyes crinkled as you smiled playfully.   
  
“oh boy,” Sans ran a hand across his face, trying to hide his bright blue blush, “seriously? can i pass?”   
  
“Oooh, is it that bad?” You smirked as he squirmed. “You might want to save that pass if I have an even worse question later.”   
  
“ugh. you’re the worst.” His skull flopped forward as he mentally prepared himself. “so, thankfully the skeleton sub-species doesn't have heat cycles like bunnies or dogs, but we still get… ya’no, urges of a, uhm, sexual nature. and if you don't have a mate or no one else around to help you… relieve those urges then you have to deal with it yourself. and i may, or may not, have been caught dealing with my repressed sexual frustration by… my brother... with my pants ‘round my ankles, watchin’ porn online…” His head hung lower and lower, though you could still see him flushing cobalt blue. “he should learn to knock!”   
  
“Wait, how do you do that? Do skeletons have dicks?”  
  
Oh no.  
  
You couldn’t help the words pouring from your mouth and immediately took another drink to silence yourself as Sans sat bolt upright.  
  
“are you seriously asking me how i get off?”   
  
Stunned silence grew across the room as you both flushed, the only sound being the crackling and popping of your drinks and the fire alike. You both stared at each other and broke down, howling great laughter until tears ran down your cheeks, calming down only to hunch into wheezing laughter all over again.   
  
“oh man, you are the worst!” Sans said again and took deep breaths as he refilled his glass and then yours. You took another sip and felt as if a weight was being lifted from you. Tipsy, with a feeling much like the typical buzz alcohol gave you, without the slurred speech or inability to control yourself. It was pleasant, like your stresses were simply inconsequential in the moment.   
  
His chuckle deepened, smile turning devilish as you thanked him. “so, what gets you all hot and bothered under the collar, kitten?”   
  
You squeaked, voice timid and quiet, “Oh no. This is revenge, isn't it?” He nodded, thoroughly enjoying you growing flustered and sweaty.   
  
"It's a little embarrassing… Not all humans enjoy it, and some think it's weird, but there's like this entire subculture around it.”   
  
“and what is “it”?” His voice rumbled low in his chest as he smirked, and your stomach flipped.   
  
“I like it rough. The dominating ones that like to take control. Almost degrading or humiliating: choking, being pinned down, biting, hair pulling…” You bit your lower lip, hoping he understood so you could stop squeaking. He stared at you as you avoided eyes contact, watching your teeth tug anxiously at your lip and the way your knees shook.   
  
“well i’ll have to remember that for later.” He teased, and warmth rolled down your spine, settling and bubbling below your stomach. You couldn't help but imagine that smirking grin above you, pinning your arms above your head and-   
  
You cleared your throat as you tried to regain composure. “So be-besides work, what interests you? Like, uh, hobbies, or social things?”   
  
Sans fidgeted as he considered his answer, a hint of blue upon his cheekbones, looking uncomfortably nonplussed, “heh, i suppose being hilarious counts as a hobby. but as i said before i like naps, reading whatever books i can find, but there's watching movies or video games. pretty much anything that requires the least amount of movement. nothin’ sporty, like the dancing you were doing back at the ice-pond.” You looked up, surprised he had remembered testing that puzzle with Papyrus.   
  
“you do anythin’ like that professionally on the surface? you seem pretty good at it.”   
  
You blushed, but wracked your brain for any helpful memories “Oh, you mean ice-skating? Thanks! It’s really fun, but no, I don’t think so.”   
  
“you don’t think so? what’s that supposed to mean?” He quizzed.   
  
“Nope, it’s my turn! What were you talking about before, something I have to wear?” The glass clinked against your teeth and Sans cringed at the sound.  
  
“sometimes i forget there's bone under all that skin.” he muttered, rummaging around in his bag, finally producing a curved shape of wire with small prongs running down the sides, and two small black cones attached to the top. He place it upon his head and you gawped.  
  
“ta-da! i made you a disguise, t’make you look less human, and more monster-y!” He beamed, proud of his hard work. The headband was tossed over and you caught it from tumbling across the bed. The small black horns seemed hollow, but weighty, and when you brought it closer, you could just make out neat seam lines hiding under the paint.  
  
“i also made the band and clips to match your hair colour, so it blends in better, and the horns are soldered in place so they won't fall off!” he grinned proudly, emptying the last trickle of Happy-Go-Lucky into his glass and placed an unopened brown bottle upon the table. Setting your glass down, you stood and padded across to the vanity table opposite the beds. Carefully securing the grips and hiding the thin band under your hair, you could fully appreciate the details and craftsmanship.  
  
“You made this? It’s so convincing!” You ran a finger across the small ridges and bumps of your ‘horns’.  
  
“Thank you!” You jumped happily in front of the mirror, the weighted metal and grips held the horns firmly in place. In the reflection of the room, you could see the skeleton watching you, a lopsided smile plastered on his skull. You flicked off the nearest lamp and bounced onto your bed, the last crumbs of your chsisps tumbling to the floor with the packet.  
  
“They looked pretty awful on you, but I really like it. Thank you.” You patted the headband and Sans chuckled.  
  
“s’no problem. they look pretty great on you. just don’t take them off unless you know you're alone, and don’t get them wet. they're sealed but the metal might rust.” A faint blue glow surrounded his outstretched hand, and simultaneously the overhead light switched off and the glass bottle uncorked itself.  
  
“That’s really cool.” You whispered, the room now lit only by the white glow of the lamps above each bed. Outside of the foggy window, the night was dark and strong winds pelted snow against the glass. You watched clumps of white build upon the corners of the panes until the curtains closed themselves, making you jump.  
  
“it's pretty handy for a lazy bones like me.” Sans shrugged. Magic was such an amazing new concept to you, but it was so normal and part of everyday life Underground that Monsters barely seemed to notice it.  
  
“my turn!” Sans eye lights brightened in the dim, “what's your family like?”  
  
You lips pursed, brow knitted in effort as you thought. “I don’t remember.”  
  
“all families are a little weird. you’ve got nothin’ to be ashamed of.”  
  
“No, i’m not ashamed or dodging the question, so I pass. I literally cannot remember. There's just… nothing. Black morphing shapes whenever I try to think about anything about the Surface. I vaguely remember things, like riding a bike down a really steep hill every day, and a cat sleeping on my bed at night, but then again, it could just be some things I’ve imagined or even dreamt.” you began to frown, but instead a warm drink was being pushed into your hands.  
  
“this one tastes like spices, cinnamon, apples and elderflower. it’s another ‘happy’ one, but a bit different.” He sat back, legs lazily splayed out as you tucked your own knees up to your chin. “s’bit stronger, but less of a giddy happiness, more mellow and content. one of my favorites. should help you sleep better too.”  
  
The clear drink warmed your hands and looked just like water, except pearlescent sparkles glittered upon the surface. The taste reminded you of similar times; warming by a fire after a cold and snowy day, cheesy holiday music played softly in the background as you chattered away.  
  
You licked your lips, savouring the tartness of the apple and kick of cinnamon. “What’s your family like?”  
  
“pass.” Sans spoke into his glass, sparkles shining on his teeth.  
  
“Oh, okay.” You spoke quietly. Distractedly, he pulled a small black rectangle from his bag and flipped half of it up  
  
“here. this is my old phone. it’s outdated tech, but still works. my number is in the contacts if you need me. send a message if you’d like, or just press the number ‘one’ key and that little green button to call me. think there's some games if you get bored, too.”  
  
“Thank you… This is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.” he gently placed the phone in your hand, fingertips brushing against your skin and lingering for just a split second too long. You reluctantly retracted your hand.  
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a phone this nice before. Mine were always cheap or broken ones, I think…” The case made a satisfying click as the screen flipped up, revealing a small series of buttons labelled with numbers and letters. It’s layout seemed simple enough to navigate. You closed the phone and placed it on the floor, wanting to take time familiarising yourself with it in the morning.  
  
  
“what do you remember about the surface?”  
  
  
“Little things,” You felt yourself relax as you drank more, and though your head felt light, you didn't feel tense or anxious talking about what usually terrified you.  
  
“I think I have a cat, the one that sleeps on my bed. He was so small when I found him. Abandoned by their mother, or an unwanted kitten. He's a spoilt fluffy baby that eats nothing but tuna, but I think he’s a majestic bastard. Big pointy ears, Tail like this big!” you spread your arms apart and chuckled. It felt a little sad remembering, a pain that should've been heart wrenching, but now it just felt dulled and quiet.  
  
“I think it was pretty lonely up there, not many family or friends. Something about education, maybe an online class, but that’s fuzzy too. I think I wanted to be a dancer, probably ballet.” you drank more.  
  
“I don’t know how recent, but I’ve worked in quite a few places; a bakery, a lot in retail, a cleaner, waitress, maybe a telesales advisor or administration. Horrible jobs with lecherous or power-mad bosses, but I don't remember why, or how long for, or anyone I worked with. Just weird fuzzy black shapes instead of people. Fuck, it's frustrating. I don’t even know exactly how old I am. I wonder if Grace is even my real name... It’s all just static.” You mulled, head pleasantly sparkling like the drink in your hand, and you gulped another mouthful. Your head leant against the headboard and you turned to see Sans hurriedly writing in a thick black notebook.   
  
“What’re you writing?” You peered over, but could barely decipher his scribbles and scratches.   
  
“just something i’ve gotta do for later,” he lied, mumbling into his book; bright blue tongue poking out from between his teeth as he concentrated.   
  
“When we were behind that waterfall, and then the next second we were back at your house… What was that?” You tipped your head and stared as the still burning fire. “And don’t just say magic.”   
  
Sans tapped the end of his pen against his chin, “how can i put this in a way you’ll understand?”   
  
“Sans. I’m hardly an expert on the space-time continuum, but shit, I’m not an idiot.” You glowered at the fire.   
  
“actually, space-time continuum isn't far from it. basically, using my knowledge of particles, space, our universe, and our theories of their respective laws, i can manipulate them using my magic to get from one point to another. think of it as making a wormhole and taking a shortcut.” He smiled softly, pen resting on his cheekbone.   
  
“why’d you ask? did it make you feel sick or something?”   
  
You downed the last of your drink and swallowed hard. “No.” you said, gently shaking your head.   
  
“Why didn’t you do that when you found me in the forest? It would've been much quicker than hiking to Snowdin.” You flashed him a toothy smile, but he continued writing, speaking without looking up from the notebook.   
  
“you weren't well enough. teleporting might’ve sent you into shock and i didn’t want to risk hurting you more.” He scribed.   
  
“That makes sense.” A small yawn parted your jaw, making you stretch your entire body out and flop lower down the bed.   
  
  
Blue magic refilled both of your empty glasses several more times as you sat in silence, enjoying the content quietness of each other’s company. You stifled another yawn and drained your glass.  
  
  
“hey, kitten, are you tired?” He glanced over to you from the corner of his eye sockets, watching you kick and shift around. Your eyelids drooped slightly as you looked around to the clock.   
  
“Yeah. It’s nice and cozy in here. And it’s gone two in the morning.” You shuffled lower, dragging pillows with you and clanking your headband disguise on the table.   
  
“shit, i’ve gotta go soon. early start tomorrow, patrolling for the scary fallen human.” He grinned. Disappointment and anxiety trickled through your veins as the skeleton began pulling on his shoes and scarf. Stuffing empty bottles and books into his bag, he mentally noted that the drinks had worked rather well in getting you to open up.   
  
“what’s bothering you? Sans stood by your bed and looked down at you, curling yourself into your sheets. He tapped the pen on his chin again.   
  
“Will I be safe here?” you mumbled unhappily into the pillow.   
  
“definitely, especially if they think i’m here with ya.” he slipped slender hands through the arms of his coat and he paced, turning the final lights off, leaving only the bright fire to cast shadows around the room.  
  
“Do you have to go?”  
  
He nodded and you shoved your face into the pillow again.  
  
“is that all? you seem pretty worked up about something.”   
  
“The travelling, teleporting, or whatever you prefer to call it, that wasn't too bad. Felt a little weak afterwards but was fine after I had something to eat. What bothered me was the part in between…” your eyes fluttered closed, and you fought back another loud yawn.  
  
  
  
Sans’ pen slipped between his fingers and clattered on the floor. “you- you saw that?”   
  
“Why? Was I not supposed to?” Your sleep addled brain didn’t register the noise, or the surprise in his voice.   
  
“the only other monsters i teleported with are paps and- well, whatever, they never felt anything weird or even noticed the actual travelling part. shit, i’ve been doin’ this forever, and even i can barely see the void.”   
  
“The Void? That’s a pretty apt name. It’s awful in there.” You shuddered, pulling the blankets up to your shoulders.   
  
  
“what did you see?” he spoke, voice deadly quiet.   
  
  
“Darkness. Unnatural and suffocating darkness. Little flickers of light, I think? Can’t remember what the lights were. But it wasn't so much what I saw. S’what I felt.” Exhaustion slurred your words, body and mind feeling suddenly too tired to hold back. Sludge oozed through your body.   
  
“There was… something. It sounded like static, louder and louder, like it was alive and talking. It wasn’t happy we were there. Gotta be careful what you’re looking at, because it might be looking back.” you scoffed, defiant at its anger. Sans blue magic crackled around his fingertips, his eye lights sharpened in curiosity.   
  
“I was so scared. It was furious we were trespassing, waking it up.”   
  
Your mind echoed the noises of the roaring fire and the growing storm outside, peacefully floating down and down and down.  
  
  
  
“And then it touched me.”  
  
  
  
  
Seconds of silence ticked by.  
  
“What’s in the Void?” You yawned, but the question remained unanswered.  
  
As you began to fall into a deep sleep, you vaguely realised several things: you had forgotten to change into your pyjamas yet were too far gone to care, you had also forgotten to ask Sans about the water and the large white building, and lastly you realised Sans had disappeared; teleporting back to his own room, and he had taken the hotel room key; locking you in.  
  



	16. Splintering

Brow furrowed and frowning deeply, you tugged the door once more. You furiously multitask: tapping away at your phone with one hand, the other hand still firmly grasped around the door handle. 

 

**You** 12:44 PM

_And why the hell am I locked in?_

 

The phone letting out a small “ping” as a reply came through quickly.

 

**Sans** 12:45 PM

_the primary function of a lock is to make sure no one comes in._

 

You threw your head back dramatically and groaned. Though you preferred texting to actually speaking, this conversation made your teeth grind together in irritation.

 

**You** 12:46 PM

_ Or do you mean you don't want  me to get  out ? _

 

**You** 12:46 PM

_ Also, what about when the hotel staff comes to clean the room? What am I supposed to do then? Hang about, getting in the way, wearing my horns? _

 

**Sans** 12:47 PM 

_ i’ve taken care of that, don't worry. _

 

**You** 12:47 PM

_ What's that supposed to mean? And what about food?! I’m going to exhaust my supplies if I can’t leave! _

 

**Sans** 12:48 PM

_ you sure are obsessed with that thing. you carrying around a lot of emotional  baggage?  >8) _

 

**You** 12:48 PM

_ You sure are obsessed with puns. That was horrible. _

 

**Sans** 12:48 PM

_ you got me! looks like the cat’s outta the bag! _

 

You groaned again, but couldn't help smiling as you sat upon the edge of your bed. 

 

**You** 12:49PM

_ God damnit. Do you ever take anything seriously? _

 

**Sans** 12:49 PM

_ saddle up kid, there’s plenty more where  that came from! _

 

**You** 12:49 PM

_ Stop. _

 

**Sans** 12:50 PM

_ i’ll never stop purse-uing my dreams! _

 

**Sans** 12:50 PM

_ you wanna know what really takes my breath away? _

 

**You** 12:51 PM

_ Do you even need to breathe? _

 

In Sans’ room, his text tone blipped loudly, simultaneous texts making his phone continuously vibrate against the bones of his hands. He pouted and sat up in bed, sheets falling from his bony shoulders as he read the texts over again. You had a point; maybe he hadn't thought this through. The convenient solution worked well in his favour, but he hated to admit that often he rushed into things without thinking far enough ahead. 

 

**Sans** 12:52PM

_i was going to say ‘a plastic bag’, but you ruined it 8(_  

 

You chuckled, frustrated at how amusing you found the dumb jokes. Biting at your lip, you sighed and hoped he’d take you seriously. As if reading your mind, he replied.

 

**Sans** 12:55 PM

_ sorry, sorry! 8) I’ll take you shopping soon! ‘get you more food and we can even hang out. apparently i’ll be working with the guards soon, and quite a lot, but i’ll let you know when we can goof off at my hotdog stand. how much longer can you hold off until i’m free? _

 

Work that day had been slow, but thankfully the quietness and slow crackling of molten lava around the sentry station allowed him to nap peacefully. As he awoke, greeting a passing Pyrope, he noticed his phone still gripped in his hand and hummed uncertainly at your lack of reply. He stood, knee caps crunching as he stretched and made his way home. Thoughts of visiting you were unfortunately forgotten as he chatted with his brother over dinner and simulated battle tactics with Papyrus’ eclectic collection of figures. They both received urgent calls, which left figures abandoned upon the carpet of Papyrus’ bedroom.

  
  
  


**Sans** 19:32 PM

_ have i ever mentioned undyne? she’s the 1st lieutenant of the royal guard, though pap sometimes call her captain because she’ll probably be promoted soon. _

 

**Sans** 19:32 PM

_ he really looks up to her. _

 

**Sans** 19:32 PM 

_ she’s technically standing in for the real captain, greatest dog, who isn't on duty. _

_ anyway! undyne called an emergency meeting! someone reported a potential sighting of the human, lol, and ordered constant watch at all sentry points. she even roped in a couple of new recruits to help out. would be best if you laid low for a while, which is a shame because i was looking forward to having a new assistant to do all the work for me 8( _

 

Hours later, as he laid in bed, blinking sleepily at the ceiling, his phone blipped again. 

 

“shit. did i fall asleep?” He grumbled, patting the thick duvet to find the hard lump of plastic. Reflexively scrunching his eyesockets, the screen’s light seemed even brighter in the dark as he quickly opened up your message.

 

**You** 03:13 AM

_ I can't stay here. _

 

Sans couldn't read the tone of the text very well, but the intent was clear. He knew the loneliness would be difficult to deal with, but he couldn't risk you being on your own in the open. Something deep and primal within his chest squeezed; soul tight and humming.He frowned at the risk of you in danger.

The strange feelings that made his soul flutter were growing by the day, and jumbled his thoughts into a confusing mess of wanting you close, yet needing to keep you safe and locked away. The absence of your soul’s gentle hum created a static of painful white noise between those thoughts.

  
  


**Sans** 03:13 AM

_ it's for your own safety. _

 

You launched the phone onto the other bed in a fit of rage, screeching into a pillow. How  _ dare  _ he insert himself into your plans, pretending his intentions were all for your benefit. Your blood broiled and steamed as you seethed, thrashing around the bed as your temper tantrum raged. 

Familiarly sticky, like tar oozing through your pores, a potent urge and restlessness poured through you, and scratching at the door in a desperate attempt to leave did not quell the ache. Your harsh breathing slowly devolved into tearless sobs and you pushed your palms into your eyes, creating a nebula of colours in the dark. Caustic hate only seemed to drive you to continue, and that part of you came to dread the routine you fell into. As weeks passed, you fell into a bizarre and subdued normalcy, spending your days stretching, watching the tiny tv adjacent to your bed and then bathing, only to spend your nights restlessly tossing and turning. Even texting Sans achieved very little in terms of entertainment as he was often working or sleeping. Hate, anger and turbulent, anxious energy sapped your nerves.

 

There was too much time, with too little to do, and that left you with too much time spent in your head. The compulsion grew almost painful, with each passing day adding more and more pressure and anxiety. Your leg twitched as you curled upon the windowsill, head pressed against the cold glass to try and relieve the aching behind your temples. Condensation-dampened hair clung to your feverish skin and the feeling made you itchy and uncomfortable. Your fingernails were bitten down to the beds, but you scratched at your scalp and whined as the sensation of frizzy hair became overwhelming. You had stopped using the phone a while ago, but it had become a comfort object of sorts, always in your hand or never far away. It clattered against the floor as you jumped down, stamping across to the bathroom. You tugged at the lengths of hair sticking up at odd angles and locks plastered to your skin. Knife in hand, you hacked away, severing inches until the hair fluttered down in clumps, clogged the sink. 

 

Stepping back, you sighed in relief. Your reflection didn't really look like you anymore. Harsh, dark shadows made your eyes look haggard and dull, and you hair looked choppy, sitting in fresh layers past your jaw. The bob looked a little uneven, but overall you were pleased and the clawing feeling subsided a little. Shaking your head to remove loose pieces, and fluffing your hair made you smile in relief. The intensity still made you pace back and forth in the tiny bathroom, loose hairs itching and pointy against your skin, feet kicking away the locks that sullied the white tiled floor. 

  
  


Water dripped from the blunt cut tips of your hair onto your clean skin, and you tried to feel refreshed and relaxed, but the canned pasta felt like chalk in your mouth. 

  
  


Days passed. Sans passed out into his bed in the rare moments he was home. Undyne would not let up until the human was caught, and Sans barely had time to breathe.

  
  


In your moments of lucidity, you tried to piece together parts of information, formulating a plan. You had to get to Asgore, you needed to talk to him to stop the killings, and you  _ needed _ to get passed the barrier. You now had a disguise to be around them without causing suspicion and you learned through your texting conversations with Sans that the entire Underground was simply a long, long tunnel, connecting huge caverns that made up each city or town. You guessed that if you headed in the direction opposite the forest, you would eventually come to find Asgore and the barrier.

 

Your lungs burned for the pull of fresh air and the moon called out for you. You dreamt of the surface burning, ashes raining down like sooty snow.

  
  


Seven human souls. You were the fifth to fall and you’d be the first to make it passed the barrier. There  _ had _ to be a way for you to help break it, there  _ needed _ to be. You couldn't stay here and be at peace, but you couldn't hurt someone else to leave.

What if there wasn't another way; what is Sans was telling the truth about the scientists and mages? What if you were stuck down here with the monsters, too weak to free them, let alone yourself.

Your soul cringed and shrunk at the thought, and you let out a sigh. The long nights made your anger drip away, to be replaced with a hollow feeling of helplessness, your only source of determination to continue being that clawing drive deep within your chest. It made you feel sick and wrong just sitting around doing nothing. Eventually, you stopped replying to Sans, even as he began to call you, but you couldn't muster the motivation to get out of bed.

Soon the feeling chipped away at your desire to help the others, if it meant you could escape the Underground. The thought horrified you, but after more days in solitary confinement, you let yourself sink. No more thinking. No more contemplating the best options and weighing up consequences. You needed to  **act** .

  
  


The walls of the hotel room began to mock you and the door laughed as you tried to kick it open. Magic entwined around the lock held it firmly in place. Your reflection blinked out of time and smirked when you cried. You weren't sure when you became unaware of day and night merging into one endless loop of seething.

  
  


You painted in the condensation on the glass with your finger: a broad sun with great, beaming rays of light that spread across the pane. Your soul let out a small, steady pulse in sadness. 

 

_ Trapped. _

_ Have to go. Need to leave.  _

_ Barrier. Need to go.  _

 

_ Must leave. Trapped. Need to get out. _

 

_ Need to make a choice. Need to leave. _

_ Kill or be killed? _

 

An unrelenting stream of words muttered under your breath, fogging up the window and destroying your visions of the surface. Paint chipped underneath the pads of your fingers as you traced the wooden frame. The cold metal of the hinges and twisting lock bit at your ski-

 

You sat back, eyes focusing upon the small metal clasp. Oh.

It was almost laughable really. You chastised yourself for not thinking of it sooner, or not thinking at all for that matter. Deprecating laughter bubbled up past your chapped lips and you held onto your stomach as you laughed.

Manic alarm bells rang in your head as you quickly pushed your feet into sturdy shoes, nervous and excited energy making your movements frantic and shaky. Scooping up your last can of food and pocketing your knife, you suddenly paused in front of the vanity. The lone lit light bulb next to the mirror shone weakly, illuminating what little remained of the mirror. You glowered past the cracks, despising the tired, sunken eyes that gazed back. Slivers of glass littered the wooden surface, shining as the bulb flickered and you adjusted your horns before pulling up the furry lining of your hood.

 

The small latch turned effortlessly and bitter night air blew choppy layers of hair from your face. You chuckled into the breeze, and your promise to Sans flew out of the window quicker than you could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I want to thank each and every one of you for your patience, and I 1million% appreciate each kudos, comment and hit. You are all amazing and comments seriously motivate me to keep writing.
> 
> I'm sorry if this chapter difficult to read due to its choppy and frantic nature, but I wanted it to reflect Grace's fracturing state of mind and how they let their usually strong moral compass go astray.
> 
> Don't blame Sans though; it's not his fault!
> 
> But it's time for plot! Soon you will learn about the mysterious white building, with some world-building and monster festivities, and the  
> meaning behind the name Stagnant!
> 
> I'm sorry Grace is silly and didn't check the window first :'3 Feel free to ask any questions! I can link to my Tumblr if you want to ask something anonymously?


	17. Out of Reach

“oh, by the way, can you tell your aunt i said thanks for extendin’ our stay on such short notice. she’s a real life saver.” Sans paused before the stairs, leaning on to the Inn’s reception desk and grinning at the small white bunny.

The Bunny-monster waved a paw dismissively but smiled sweetly.

“Sure thing Sansy, but you know exactly what Aunty Coral will say! She’s just so grateful for all your help, and she has a soft spot for you two. It's the least we can do.” She scribbled in the large reservations book before gathering pieces of paper strewn across the desk. “Though I’ve been so busy that I’ve not seen either of you leave!” She chuckled.

Sans snorted and shoved his bony hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“thanks sweetpea.”

Her tiny white nose twitched as she propped furry elbows upon the wooden desk top.

“Did you guys enjoy the carrot cake Aunty Coral made?”

“it was _ear_ -resistable!” The skeleton Monster giggled and the bunny rolled her large pink eyes.

“Don’t quit your day jobs, funny guy.” Sweetpea groaned but her maw turned up into a reluctant smile, showing large front teeth and pale pink gums. “That was totally not original.”

“do you want to _hare_ my new material?” Sans grinned wider, barely restraining his laughter.

“Oh gosh no, get outta here! I’ve got rooms to clean.” Sweetpea ducked around the reception and brandished a sweeping brush towards the skeleton.

“best _hop_ to it. you don't seem to _carrot-_ all for my jokes!” He cried with laughter as he ran up the stairs, away from the brush brandishing bunny, who yelled in return as he stomped up each step.

  


 

The small bronze key fit smoothly into the keyhole, and his faint blue magic unsheathed from around the mechanism as he turned the metal.

“hey, you awake?” he asked in a hushed whisper, closing the door as he stepped in before locking it once more. Darkness shrouded the room, and evening gloom seemed to draw away any details, leaving vague lumps and shapes.

He took a few steps forward and something crunched under the heavy soles of his shoes. Startled, he jumped backwards, shoulder smacking against a carrot coloured wall. Hos hand smacked on the wall as he hit a switch and turned the main lights on.

The blinking light bulb illuminated the mess of the room: bed sheets strewn around, shards of mirror and glass trailed across the floor, intermingling with lumps of… something, and empty, crumpled cans that once held food. Sans could barely comprehend how you slept with trash everywhere, and wondered how your mess had somehow surpassed his own! It had taken years to cultivate the correct balance of garbage, laundry and clutter, but this… this did not look intentional.

 

Suddenly Sans realised you were not in either of the beds, pillows and duvets crumpled and tattered beside the bed frames.

“grace? you in there?” His voice shook with worry and confusion. He tried his hardest to turn away from the chaos and rapped his thick, heavy knuckles against the closed bathroom door. The sudden force made the wood creak upon their loose hinges and the door slowly swung open with a prolonged  _squeeaaaak_.

 

Light spilled across the dirty white tiles, glittering from puddles of water and matted locks of your hair. Despite his lack of physical lungs, Sans gasped in shock and he darted around the room, trying to figure out what had happened.

 

You weren't answering your phone, but he could hear the vibrations thumping against an empty can from somewhere within the mess.

"shit..." He growled and shoved his phone harshly back into his shorts.

Your duffel bag lay across the vanity table, contents haphazardly falling out. Sans knew that the bag had become a transitional object; a familiar comfort item of sorts to help you process the shock of the Underground, and anxiety crept across his bones. If you weren't in here, and had left your precious comfort behind… his mind raced, searching for any answers. Had someone found you and taken you? A fight would explain the mess, but the hair was cut straight, not torn or ripped out. It certainly matched your own colour, and he couldn't find any evidence to suggest anyone else had been in the room. There weren't any traces of magical residue or auras. He chewed at the tip of a finger-bone, nervously pacing, crushing glass and cans underfoot.

You had left your bag, but what was _missing_?

Dashing to the vanity table, avoiding large chunks of pointed glass, he picked through the contents of your bag. Sans had seen it enough to become familiar with the contents and quickly realised your knife, and the disguise were missing, along with your warmest clothes and shoes. If you had been taken, he assumed you would fight back, and a scuffle wouldn't give you opportunity to dress properly, let alone put on shoes. So you must have left on your own… but _how_?

 

A small, rustling movement to his side made the frazzled skeleton hop back. He gave a weak chuckle as he realised the pale chiffon netting upon the window, bunched to one side and partially torn, blew gently in the breeze. He froze. Eyes wide in a mixture of realisation and horror. The window. The small, dewy window sat, gaping wide open, scuff marks and chipped paint marring its pane. Had he really become so distracted by the tempting softness of your skin that he jad forgotten about the window?

 

The wood squeaked as he gripped the windowsill tight, leaning far out into the cold evening air and somehow, his breath fogged in the chill as he shouted.

Silence.

 

 

He called your name again.

 

But no one came.

 

  


 

 

 

Sweat dripped from your nose as you bent over, hands clutching your thighs for support as you panted. Tall grass swayed gently around your shoulders, rustling and tickling at your ears as you breathed heavily. The humidity made the air thick, but you were grateful that the underground seemed to contain separate biomes and weather systems. Hopefully you wouldn't encounter any more snow, you prayed silently as you allowed yourself to fall into the encroaching numbness.

A furious blush spread, unwanted, across your face as you passed the waterfall and you thought of the hidden cave behind the water. You craved the closeness once more; the quiet, intimate contact, but you huffed out a breath and shook your head. _Keep going._

Each drip and drop of water echoed as it fell from the ceiling and in the distance you could hear the crash of waterfalls. It became a far-away white noise as you continued, hopping into a sprint. Your shoes fell heavily onto the thick wooden boards of the pier, keeping you inches above the inky blue waters below. Despite the dense collection of waterfalls, this water was oddly still, but as you ran across the long and straight path, you wondered how quickly the current ran underneath its surface. A morbid part of you wondered how far the water ran until it tumbled over another tall cliff.

 

You continued to run.

 

Eventually your path gave way to rocky floors once more and the walls of the cavern’s tunnel seemed to glow a faint blue. The colour reminded you of Sans’ magic and you stumbled at the thought, feet catching on the rubble covered floor and you only just caught yourself from falling. You panted hard as you righted your course and often found yourself looking over your shoulder, just in case the familiar skeleton was following behind. You ignored small doorways carved into the great stone walls, allowing your instincts to carry you on what felt like “the right way”, and the niggling voice in your head became desperate clawing and screaming as your path came to a sudden halt.

A small body of water abruptly cut off the now boggy ground. You could barely make out your reflection in the rippling pool and didn't want to risk wading through; the bottom of the water as unknowingly deep as your fear. The water seemed just a stretch too far to jump and you sighed heavily. You were _so_ sure that it was the right direction, but you turned around and jogged backwards down the tunnel. Nervousness dug its heels into your stomach and knotted below your lungs. Your shoes sank into the ground as you turned a sharp corner that you had previously ignored.

Through the small and unassuming archway, the cave opened up into a gigantic space, luminescent waters glowing and bubbling away. A small, unabashed smile tugged at your lips, and a small piece of serenity wormed its way into your heart as you took a slower pace through the magnificent marsh. Tall, damp grass bobbed and waved as water gurgled around, weaving and wavering streams creating several natural paths that curved and curled around the long, soft corners of the cave. The air smelt like damp, muddy earth and you breathed deep, savouring the richness of the glowing waters and plants. Familiar flowers with their thick cyan petals were littered around the islands of dark earth that were connected by short wooden bridges. You looked around to find yourself alone, and it took some battling with your internal monologue to permit yourself to stop.

 

You squat down next to a lonely little flower and rocked on the balls of your feet as you hunched. The plant seemed to have a light of its own, glowing brighter than the surrounding waters, but upon closer inspection the pure electric blue seemed tainted and muddied. It made sense, a quiet and dulled part of your brain answered, without sunlight the magical plant life had to create a strange biology of its own. Suddenly, a memory of a disembodied voice came back to you.

“Echo Flowers?” You whispered and tentatively reached out. As your fingers brushed against a velvety petal, the flower squeaked out, “Echo Flowers?”, and you jumped a little as you recognised your own voice. It sounded too high, and in too hushed a whisper but the similarity made the hairs on your arm stand on end. Your fingers curled into your palms and you looked around once more, hoping the quiet noise had not disturbed any nearby monsters. Quickly you stood up, knees groaning in protest and calves aching, but your feet carried on regardless of the pain, away from the calming waters. _Need to keep moving._ The strange indigo coloured rock walled you in as you jogged further away, each step jarring and loud in the stillness.

You could make out a pitter-patter of water against stone but could not yet see its source.

 

An obnoxiously large signpost, hammered into the floor declared:

 

**“As Ordered by The King:**

**Do not pass unless**

**ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.**

**This area requires**

**MANDATORY PROTECTIVE EQUIPMENT.”**

 

You scoffed and ignored the bucket full of umbrellas, and you took up a steady run along the tunnel. Heavy droplets of water splashed from the ceiling, falling as quickly as Surface rain, splashing into brown puddles upon the rocky floor. Soon you were drenched, hair and clothes slick against your skin, and ugly muddy streaks trailed down your face. Some of the water trickled into your open, panting mouth and you pursed your lips before swallowing, trying to ignore the saltiness of your own sweat mingling with metallic taste of tainted water. It didn't taste like the rock-filtered water from the Ruins.

 

By the time the water stopped falling, the cave had opened up even more, and you found yourself in the vastest, emptiest space yet. It was so dark without the soft blue glow and an uneasiness fell upon you.

 _Don’t Stop. Must move._ The top of the mountain seemed carved flat, though dense rocky outcrops jutted from the sides to act as sharp, pointed guard rails. You still hadn't seen any more monsters arou-

 

You stopped.

 

Across the vast, empty space of the huge cavern, you could make out a shape, miles and miles away. Your eyes adjusted slowly and your goal suddenly felt so real, so tangible now that you could see it, and you knew, _you knew_ it was just out of reach. The seething, painful clawing surged into a desperate, frenzied flurry; working its way through your limbs and deep into your soul. The urge made your chest ache and that strange 'something' compelled you stronger than ever before.

 

_It's there!_

_Keep going._

  


_Don't stop._

 

_Keep going._

  
  
  


_Asgore’s Castle._

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shorter chapter, but my undying love for vague cliffhangers will never falter!
> 
> As always, thank you for each and every hit, kudos, subscription and comment. You're all awesome!


	18. Caged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter contains: description of a small bloody wound and what could be seen as depersonalisation/dissociation.
> 
> Please continue you much appreciated support by hitting the kudos, bookmarking or subscribing, commenting and even sharing my work if you're enjoying it so far!
> 
> Don't be afraid to point out any mistakes like typos or grammatical errors! :3

  


“well we haven't seen the human out during the day, so maybe they're nocturnal!” Sans mocked Jerry’s high, nasally voice as he jogged along, occasionally kicking rocks into the slowly trickling rivers of Waterfall.

He rushed passed the waterfall you had both huddled behind, hiding from Asgore. A softly glowing blush spread across his cheekbones as he remembered the smell of your hair and the heat radiating from your body, soft skin and sharp bones pressed close to him. He was certain he could still hear the Echo Flower, almost mocking in its hushed tone,  _ "... -i don’t want to see you hurt, ‘cause, i like you and i, uh, really care about you…” _

He couldn't help picturing your own pink blush, the way your half lidded eyes shone in the gloom and how your lips were so close to his… His Soul pulsed and he shook his head, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind.

  


“now isn't the time to be reminiscing about that!” Sans whispered to himself.

Beyond the muddy floors of a cluster of waterfalls, he stopped, breathing heavily, and seated himself onto a large and damp boulder to regain some energy.

  


“maybe we should work longer shifts so we have a better chance of finding them?” he muttered under his breath in a whiny voice. “who the fuck took that idiot seriously?” the grumpy skeleton grumbled as he typed at the phone’s screen, working out bug fixes on his new code. He was so tired, and far too drained to teleport long distances after a mere hour of sleep on top of yet another 12 hour stint “searching” for the Human. He didn't even have the luxury of napping at his post, as several of the dog clan guards were stationed with him, and the yappy monsters were too high maintenance for him to leave unattended. Sans sighed and popped his last candy between his teeth. The small magical boost would help for now, but he needed rest. As soon as he found you, a long,  _ long _ nap was in order.

  


“yes!” He hissed out in excitement and jumped to his feet, boots crunching gravel against the solid stone floor. The modified version of the weather tracking app synced perfectly with the data transmitted from your home-made disguise, and he silently praised you for taking them along.

With renewed hope, he followed the path, continually typing away on his phone and barely looking up from the screen as he hurried through Waterfall. Occasionally the data transmission froze, the little blue dot that represented your position jittered around until it relocated back on track. He hoped that the horns were not damaged. Despite his best attempts at sealing the metal casing shut, the electronics would simply short out is they somehow got wet.

His soul squeezed with anxiety every time the blue dot stuttered around, and fear made him jump to the worst conclusion: that the data would be abruptly cut out and he wouldn't be able to find you. For the most part, the underground was a single route from the Ruins to the Barrier, but with tiny alcoves and vast caves, you had many places to hide. He had previously witnessed your stubborn, yet kind quietness turn into an instinct-driven frenzy so quickly, and though he didn't understand the reasons, he was worried you were almost breaking under its strain. It could be dangerous, if you were not thinking straight in unknown territory. He was so worried that you were marching straight to Asgore’s castle- straight to your death- that he nearly walked right into a small, meandering river.

  


“damnit.” He frowned as glowing blue water seeped through his shoes and made his toes damp. Stepping away from the river’s edge and shaking droplets from his foot, he accidentally nudged an Echo Flower as he kicked the air.

“Echo Flower?” it whispered, quiet and unsure. Sans’ eyelights darted around as he recognised your voice, though it sounded far away. He searched, spinning on the spot until he stopped upon the swaying blue plant. He sighed, dejected, and returned his gaze to the screen. You had covered quite a distance in the few moments he had stopped, and even though the thought of simply teleporting was hard work, he resigned himself to the difficult process of catching up on foot.

He glanced up at the newly erected sign and squeezed his eyes shut.  _ Drip drip drips _ of fat sullied water oozed through the tiny cracks in the tunnel’s roof and left ever growing puddles upon the floor. The sounds were even louder in the soothing silence, as they splashed against the plastic of an umbrella. Sans’ skeletal hands gripped hard upon the long handle as he ran, shoes now soaked as he sped along. His hood slid from his face as he picked up the pace, skidding around sharp corners before haphazardly abandoning the umbrella upon the ground as he left the showering cave. A glowing navy dot indicated you were so close: stationary and hovering right in the middle of Castle-View Ridge, and he couldn't help the smile nudging at the corners of his mouth. The dot had not moved for a while and he prayed to the stars above that you were resting, giving him even the slimmest of chances to catch up.

  


Towering craggy rocks lining either side of the ridge loomed above him in the darkness, and though he could not make out much in the gloom, his Soul thumped wildly.

Again, Sans skidded to a stop, faltering in the same place as the mark. His map indicated you were  _ right there _ , barely feet away, but the smooth and narrow path that lay ahead was empty. Tight, unrelenting panic gripped his chest, lacing between his bones and causing his magic to crackle in the joints of his fingers. 

“okay, calm down… it’s okay...” The skeleton’s voice quivered as he spoke quietly, pacing around the Ridge. He heaved a long, shaky breath from his nasal cavity, forcing his breathing to even out. Magic and uneasiness made his joints pop as he stretched out his hands.

The ledges were too high to climb, so you could be hiding close-by, and he could not see the pair of disguise horns lying upon the ground, which meant you had not discarded or lost them. Thoughts rattled in his skull, if you weren't here, then where the hell were yo-

Inhaling a sharp, short gasp, he stared at the soft blinking mark and smacked his free hand against his bony forehead.

  


“sans, you fuckin’ idiot.” He cursed, voice rough and low as he pocketed the phone in frustration. The 10 minute delay on the real-time weather tracking app had not yet been fixed, and Sans’ hope fluttered sadly within his Soul.

  


“so this is what happens when you sleep instead’a doin’ work.” He scolded and unconsciously balled his hands into fists as he stomped along the ridge. A 10 minute delay gave you a rather large head start, especially when exhaustion fogged his magic. Anxiety made his non-existent stomach churned.  


  


His Soul burned with a need to protect you, but his anger towards those unexpected feelings and your erratic actions made him despise that harsh desire. You just wouldn't stop running, as if you very being depended on reaching some unattainable goal. Sans knew you were witty and intelligent, so why would you chase after Asgore? Was your hope so strong that it overrode your natural instinct for self-preservation? Were you making rash decisions because you were slowly driving yourself insane?

As he staggered away from the crumbling, lilac tinted rocks, he sighed. He knew how mad it could drive you; being trapped Underground with no way out… Monsters had suffered, driving themselves crazy beneath the rocks, but they found solace in their families. You? You were all alone.

  


Stories were passed down: tales of the first few decades after the creation of the barrier. Valiant and heroic Monsters expending all of their energy and magic into destroying the Human Mages’ cursed wall, but to no avail. Many Monsters fell down in despair after seeing first hand there was no way for them to pass back up to the Surface. Dozens more Monsters slowly turned to dust after the death of the First Child, but that story was one known to all and even taught to youngsters in school. Hell, there was even a day set aside each year for remembrance and reflection. A quiet way to honor the “Hope of all Humans and Monsters” in death. The tale was an old and worn one, too shrouded in sorrow and pain, but it fully represented Monsters’ failing hope. However, King Asgore had remained strong. Sans admired the King for shouldering the weight of his people’s pain, but his plan? It was disgusting. Yet King Asgore had become the hope of the whole Underground, as they continued unaware of fallen Humans’ fates. Monsters were rejuvenated, renewed in their purpose through his grand, _deplorable_ plans and here you were: alone, confused, and running yourself straight into that sharpened dagger. 

  


  


  


The huge cavern continued to open up into the Underground. Ahead of you, stretching out so far that you couldn't see the other side, lay a dimly lit wooden platform with sharp corners and winding, maze-like paths that doubled back and met one another in a winding mess of frustration. Some paths crossed so close, but the gap in between seemed too far to jump, and any misjudged distance would send you into the darkness below. The platform lay on a vast, flat plane, however, you could not see an easy solution beyond time-consuming trial and error: walking your way to the other end. The process became tedious and slow as your sprinting slowed to a walk. There were too many close calls when you were trying to think two steps ahead, misjudging the very path ahead of your feet, and more than once you had nearly tumbled over the edge. Occasionally you would pass a glowing glass globe perched upon a thin wooden post, whose white light could be seen from a considerable distance away. Magic? You mused and continued with shaky steps on the path forking right.

  


The mazes’ complete lack of guardrails unnerved you, and though you could see thick wooden beams supporting the platform, you were certain that you could feel the entire thing swaying slightly, as if jostled by a light breeze. Curiosity took the upper hand as you sunk down to the floor, crawling on your hands and knees towards the corner of a crossroads, and peered over the edge. Gentle winds blew into your face, making your hair dance in the air and beneath the whispers, you could hear the gurgling of unseen waters below. The depths were covered by a dark, dense fog, and your head reeled at the unimaginable distance to the bottom of the pit. In the distance, the maze stretched on into the darkness at the other end of the cave, and you could just make out tiny white balls of lights. Were the lamps to signal the nearing end of the puzzle? Or perhaps something else significant? Your Soul stammered, disheartened by the thought of another puzzle ahead, and your stomach churned in agreement. 

  


“Ugh…” You groaned, clutching your abdomen as you pulled yourself away from the edge. Your spot from the middle of the crossroads and the flat plane worked to your advantage, allowing you to see far into the distance and spot any approaching Monsters. Another grumble from your stomach made you sit back with your legs crossed, making short work of the tinned peaches and occasionally checking around. Sweet, runny syrup clung to your chin and the corners of your mouth, and you could not resist licking your fingers clean, or carefully running your tongue against the flat of your utility knife to lap up the delicious juices. Despite being the size of your thumb, the blade’s edge remained sharp and keen as it nicked across your lower lip. You flinched and sucked in a breath between your teeth, accidentally sending the licked-clean can over the end of the wooden planks as your body twitched in pain.

  


“Shit.” You groaned. Soft flesh bled freely, sliced surprisingly deep in a satisfyingly neat, long line. Your tongue probed curiously at the wound. Sharp and metallic tastes mixed into the sweet residue upon your tongue as you sucked your lower lip. Steadily rising to your feet, you looked around towards the small pinpricks of light in the distance, towards the beginnings of the maze.

  


The lights blinked. 

A soft breeze whistled between the gaps of the wooden boards and you took a careful step backwards. Solid rubber soles creaked against the planks as Sans skulked towards you, hood up, head down and hunched over shoulders barely covered by gloom. You could just make out his skeletal features contorted into a frown.  _ Oh no. _

  


You had lingered for too long.  _ Go!  _ The compelling voice cried and you darted away from the skeleton Monsters.

  


“i don't even know what to say.” his low voice rumbled, carrying sharp and ringing across the suddenly still air. “i just want to understand!” Sans called a little louder as you scampered further away.

  


“Leave me alone!” 

Without needing to think, your body twisted and turned along the many paths of the maze, feet hitting the wood with such a force that your knees seemed to vibrate after each impact. You could physically feel yourself distancing from your own body as fear and adrenaline took over. In the panic, you jumped over a small gap between paths, hoping to distance yourself more from you skeletal pursuer, but you only just made it to  other side. One of your heels teetered upon the edge of the wooden plank, but you used your momentum and swung your whole body forward before skipping and skidding around the looping bridges. Sans footsteps echoed behind you, and not too far away you could see another illuminated glass ball. Your eyes had adjusted to the gloom hours ago, and If you could knock the light out you may gain the upper hand. Bounding towards the post, you shoved your palms and a shoulder against the wooden beam. The lower connection points groaned and let out a satisfying  _ crack  _ before the beam toppled, taking the shimmering white globe with it over the edge of the maze. Darkness suddenly caved in and a malicious smirk danced across your face, hoping Sans had been struck with night-blindness. Your chest rose and fell quickly as you span on your heels and continued running down the path. Strangely you could not see any other bridges on either side, and before you could grin at your victory of reaching the end of the maze, the floorboards gave way to nothingness. 

You gasped, flailing backwards and screeching furious as you hit the dead end. Dazed, you turned again and stomped, doubling back towards the last fork in the path.

  


“i’m just trying to help! have i ever hurt you, or given you a reason not to trust me?” Sans asked, hurt and confused as he tried to keep up. You must had knocked out one of the lights, he thought, as shadows and gloom were cast along every corner and crevice of the maze. The skeleton chuckled sadly; finally, growing up in the dark and dim Underground had a use. His white eye-lights searched around, hoping to catch any of your movements. Skipping over large portions of the maze and teleporting closer made him sweaty, forcing him to pant out shallow breaths. 

  


“why do you keep running? i’ve already told’ya: there ain't no changin’ king asgore’s mind!” He saw a dark figure suddenly dart across a gap ahead, and he watched as you ran across a wide, solid platform, away from the maze. Breathing heavily, he followed closely behind. 

  


“I need to go!” You screamed, heart in your mouth as you ran. Fear and spiking adrenaline coating the insides of your veins.

  


“I..I just need to keep moving.” Your voice came out in a sob as you noticed the large, open space narrowing into a long, singular path. Perhaps the exit was finally close this time? You prayed and ran faster, with your feet clipping along uneven ridges of the planks. Horror struck you once more, noticing another dead end just in time to catch yourself from falling across the open end of the path. You caught a glimpse into the abyss, forcing yourself backwards and stumbling upon your own feet. Loud ringing made your vision turn white as your head made contact with the thick platform. Nausea quivered and wobbled in your stomach and your temple throbbed. Blood trickled from your nostrils down into the newly re-opened cut in your lip. 

_ Keep moving. Don't stop.  _ Your instincts cried and dizzily, you stood, spitting away the blood coagulating on your lips. The end of the maze lay hauntingly dim, barely lit, and the quiet was continually interrupted by your panting and feet slapping against the floor. Stumbling and following the narrowing path, anxiety and exhaustion made your muscles tremble. Your teeth clicked together as you crashed into something dark and solid, sending you reeling backwards, only for a strong force to catch around your waist.

Sans blinked down at you and his sad, bright eyes watched your face fall in realisation what was blocking your way. His arms tightened around the middle as you fought his grip.

  


“ **NO** ! Let me go!” You screamed, wedging your hands between your bodies and trying to push against his chest. He stood still, unmovable and held you closer. Your chest creaked as he squeezed you tighter, breath catching before it could even reach your throat.

  


“I need to get to Asgore! I  **need** to  **go** !” your voice strained as you cried, desperation twisted with furiosity. 

  


“stop fighting! i can't keep losing you!” Sans growled out his words, brow-bone furrowed into an angry scowl. His pointed fingers left bruises upon your skin and though the crushing force softened when fat tears rolled down your cheeks, it still felt like being pressed up against a boulder with your arms pinned tight against your chest. Throwing your weight around and squirming, fruitlessly trying to duck under his grip only furthered your uncomfortable position. Your legs kicked wildly as he effortlessly lifted your body, and despite blow after blow against his shins made him wince and grumble, his vice-like grip remained. Blood dripped from your nose, catching upon the curve of your lips and splashing upon Sans’ shirt as you fidgeted. Sans eyes flickered as the toe of your shoe caught on the underside of his kneecap and he pulled you closer. As your face peered up at his, more tears spilt over, catching and shining upon your lashes.

  


“what the hell is wrong? why do you keep running when i’m trying to keep you safe?” Your frantic movements stilled, but you shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

  


“why do you keep saying you  _ need _ to get to asgore? you know if  _ anyone _ notices that you're human, they'll kill you! if you go to asgore, you. will. die.” He seethed between his teeth as you began screeching again, flailing like a caged animal. 

He watched your face twist with noxious fury, teeth bared and eyes wide, pupils vanishing into pinpricks. Your teeth snapped as you bit, lunging toward his face and he jerked backwards in shock, momentarily loosening an arm from around your ribcage.

You dropped low, ducking underneath the loop of his arms and threw yourself backwards, away from the skeleton Monster. Hunching low with your feet wide apart, you prepared to run again, but Sans’ frame completely blocked you into the long dead-ended pier. Your hair flicked as you looked around, eyes searching wildly for something,  _ anything _ , to distract him. 

Sans snorted a sigh through his nasal cavity and his grimace dropped into a sad smile.

  


“kitten,” he spoke softly and slowly raised a hand towards your trembling figure, taking a gentle step forward. Wild emotions of sorrow and anger flurried inside of your aching chest, mixing and tumbling together and you panted; teeth bared and hands clawed. You flinched as he took another step closer, and terrified, you took a step back. You knew he'd keep you safe and protected, but the listening, coherent part of you was already too far gone, drifting further away from your body and deeper into the abyss of nothing. Untamed and savage, you  morphed into an almost beast-like state of instinct, yet survival hardly seemed relevant, as long as you met your goa l.

  


“please, i just want to help you. i want to keep you safe.” Sans raised his hand higher, silently forming together just enough magic to teleport the both of you closer to Snowdin. His magic sputtered and sparked fruitlessly, and he could not even conjure a single attack. Sweat dotted his temples as he tried again and again, only exhausting himself further. Feeling useless without his magic, he sighed, trying to form a plan to use only brute strength to bring you home. The Pier-Maze was deceptively treacherous, and his Soul hammered behind his ribcage as you stepped away again. He knew that you would need medical attention soon, watching globs of bloody saliva drip unceremoniously from your chin, and in this unreasonable state, you would not even make it past the Crystal-Mushrooms, let alone Hotland’s puzzles. 

  


Sans quietly stalked you for several steps, hand still held out in waiting for yours as if trying to coax a wild beast. You growled in warning, heart beating painfully hard against your lungs. Cautiously you watched each of his small movements, hoping to dodge past as he lowered his guard more and more. You would have an opening soon, but as long as you kept your distan- 

  


Your foot slipped, warping the loose wooden boards as you tumbled and the platform creaked as your body tipped over the edge of the path. Sans dropped to his knees and reached down into the abyss, bony arm still held out, and in vain, your hands desperately tried to gasp his. As you fell faster and faster, a growing static filled your ears, before everything turned dark and silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I have rewritten this chapter so many times, but I can't seem to get it quite right. This is one of the best versions, but I suppose it's better to have the chapter published, and I can eventually come back to it. Hopefully the atmostphere and "feels" still come across as intended!
> 
> Fuwahahaha, more cliff hangers! Sorry :(
> 
> (Please comment because it honestly makes me feel so good, especially when I'm not 100% happy with my writing, and I come back to read all the comments and I just want to hug you all! :3 #ImTrash)


	19. The Aftertaste of Chalk

 

_ “Oh good, you're not dead…” _

 

_ As you snoozed beneath the stars, softly nestled upon the whispering grass of the azure meadow, a voice tittered into the shell of your ear. From the darkness beyond the field, you could hear creaking, like the groaning snap of wood. You sluggishly tilted your head away from the sounds, trying to ignore the clicks of a tongue against sharp teeth, instead focusing upon the gently swaying trees scattered across the dark horizon. _

 

_ “Well, not yet anyway.” _

 

_ The voice wormed its way into your mind with venomous bitterness, and stinging hisses that dripped from each syllable. _

 

_ “That was quite a fall you took there, and for a while I was worried that the fun was over: Human bodies have the habit of being Oh. So. Delicate.”  _

_ Each of their words were punctuated by noxious stabbing pains across your exposed legs. You thought about moving to shake away the cold, distant pinpricks of pain, but the sighing, lush grass lulled you deeper into a false sense of security. _

 

_ “My, my. You really are a trooper! But you're not very determined, are you? Far too easily derailed.” _

_ Somewhere out of view, the shrill, resonating sound of metal upon stone rang out. Though already impossibly dark, the sky lurched into a deeper shade of pitch. _

 

_ “I don't want to shatter your Soul just yet, but let's see if this puts a spring in your step!” they spat, seething out deranged laughter as something jagged and cold dug into the muscles of your calf, and twisted. And twisted.  _

 

_ And twisted.  _

 

_ You felt that something scrape against bone, and you were sure you were about to fall into a deeper, more tragic level of unconsciousness. Another stabbing, grinding thing joined the other and you wished, oh how you wished, that you could fall back into the painless limbo of nothingness. _   
  


_ “Ohhh! The smiley trash bag is going to enjoy this!” Their foul, malicious giggles made your chest tighten as you panted, barely conscious and afraid. Even the birds that flocked upon the violet trees had quietened, instinctively terrified of the presence crouched close to your shoulder. _

 

_ “After you started acting so crazy, I thought things would be more entertaining.” the dual-voice rasped, with a biting, sharp undertone carried not-too-discreetly underneath their singsong timbre. _

 

_ “But you're so boring,” It drew out the vowels, sounding its displeasure and disappointment in a clipped tone, “All you’ve done is run like you've got nothing left to live for.” _

_ Snorting in realisation, the disembodied voice gave a wheezing chuckle and the magical energy surrounding your body vibrated in glee. _

 

_ “Hah!” its laughter ground against your bones much deeper than metal ever could. _

 

_ “You really  _ **_don't_ ** _ have anything to live for.  _

**_D o   y o u ?_ ** _ ” _

 

_ Even the stars petrified into an eerie stillness as the gloating, vicious laughter turned manic and hysterical, ringing against your ears. Your mind sent the signal for you to flinch away, to flee, though your muscles barely acknowledged; offering only a slight twitch of your shoulders. Panic welled in your chest as you were torn straight from the ground of sweet darkness, roots gripping to the soft soils of unreality.  _

 

_ No! _

 

_ You didn't want to hurt anymore. You didn't want this. Not the ghastly fear that constantly loomed over you like a ghost upon your back. You didn't want the pain, nor the oozing irrationality that welled up from deep within like a viscous pot of boiling tar.  _

 

_ Run?  _

 

_ Act? _

 

_ Fight?  _

 

_ You didn't want to make any decisions anymore. You didn't want to hurt anyone. _

 

_ Yet, you had no choice. Stay and die, or pay the price for your freedom. _

  
  


_ The laughter started again. _

_ Your throat closed up in fear as you found yourself unable to move, body bound in cold, thorned vines that even wrapped around your quaking, exposed Soul. Miniscule, needle tipped barbs threatened to puncture the glassy blue surface, scoring savage lines in their wake as the vivid green ropes constricted. Tight and vibrating, the string between your chest and Soul sung, threatening to snap under the tension. The very essence of your being pulsed in abject horror, and the vines tugged so hard that sinuous splinters dug into the glass. _

_ A scream bubbled up your clamped throat, though no sound passed your lips as ink gushed down your throat. Fear and pain sparked through your blood as feeling suddenly flooded your body. Neither a gasp nor breath could reach your lungs, and colours splotched in your tunneling vision, sending electric white spots into the nebulae of reds and blacks behind your eyelids. _

 

_ “Hey, kid. Do you ever get deja vu?” _

 

_ They asked, sounding as if they already knew the answer.  _

_ And then the pain stopped, as if it never existed in the first place. Cold spread from your core, numbing you further. You couldn't answer; you were too busy trying to breathe. _

 

_ “You're always a fun one to mess around with. But you're boring now. It's always the same ending.” Their voice dropped to a reluctant, sad breath that ruffled the hairs across your forehead. _

_ You gasped, hiccuped in water, writhed with your hands clamped against your throat. _

 

_ “I'm going back to sleep.” The being spoke ruefully, its petals sighing against your skin, before vanishing beneath the water's edge. _

  
  
  
  


Frothy bubbles gathered in clumps around your open mouth as consciousness found you, unsure of which way pointed up as you flinched, confused and terrified in the water. With cramped muscles you thrashed in the shallow, murky pool, pushing against the debris covered floor to gain leverage. Disorientated, you broke the surface, sending waves and ripples cascading away as you hoisted yourself the rim of the natural pool. 

Your head swam as you threw your weight upon the damp, stone floor, using your pruning fingers to drag yourself to your hands and knees. Your stomach lurched as water spilled from behind your sinuses and the hollows of your cheeks. Stomach acid bit at the back of your throat as you retched, coughing and spluttering up the vile mixture of oily, brown water. Chunks of clotting blood slithered from your open, panting mouth and splashed into the vomit with a sickening  _ thlop _ . You weren't sure how much water you had swallowed, but your eyes burned at the taste of acrid bitterness and sour stagnation. 

Air graced your lungs as you gasped, mouth downturned into a grimace to gulp in oxygen, cooling the firey burn of deprivation. Foam and detritus hung tight in between your fingers and your nails unconsciously grated against the floor as you wheezed. Water dripped from your shivering body as you curled in on yourself, forehead tucked under your chest, pressed up close to your knees, hands flat against the ground as if in deep prayer. Your joints ached as the floor drew away any remaining heat, sapping it from your very core. Disgust drummed its fingers against your throat and you shuddered, suppressing a gag as blood and rot welled underneath your tongue.

Time passed as your breathing slowed to a wet, wheezing rattle and eventually you sat up. 

 

The cavern you had fallen into appeared much like the others, though so impossibly tall that darkness shrouded the high ceiling. Pain jolted against your temple as you looked up, unable to make out the wooden platform maze high above. You strained to see any tiny pinpricks of light in the ink. Or was that a dream too? You were too distracted by the pain to concentrate and fell deeper into a forgetful confusion. A small part of you wondered if your skeletal pursuer would continue the hunt, but  you couldn't remember why you were running away in the first place.

 

As you focused in on your immediate surroundings, your tired mind caught up with your vision and you jumped back in shock, bare knees skidding across the stone. Bunches of damp yellow flowers sprouted from fissures in the grounds, surrounding the water that broke your fall, though their sunshine colours were reflected as a dank bronze across the muddy pond. It only seemed fitting for them to surround you after another tumble through the darkness, though you heartbeat settled when the flowers remained inanimate. Visions of warping grins and twisting vines flashed by for a split second. You forced out a shuddering sigh, spitting away water that dripped and collected at the cusp of your upper lip.

 

Pools and ponds of various sizes were dotted around the cave in all directions, filling up the natural indents and holes that sat carved within the stone. Some were no more than puddles, laying smooth and shining like murky brown glass, whilst others spanned out in wide and deep ovals across the uneven ground. The marshy pit that took the brunt of your fall looked innocuous, though you did not wish to test its depths again. 

Littered around the hollow were piles and mounds of trash that towered overhead: cracked computer monitors, empty food packaging, and soggy magazines helped the dripping, quiet cavern hold a pervasive smell of rot in the air. On quivering legs, you stood, bracing yourself upon a stack of slick tree trunks. Bark split and shifted from the dead trunks, sloughing away simply from the pressure of your hands as you tried to regain some semblance of composure. Were you really dreaming of the vivid meadow and the plum coloured sky, of the discarnate voice torturing your body and Soul?

The throbbing, smarting pain beneath your skin bore into a deep anger that knocked against your insides, frustrated, with no outlet.   
  


You wrung water from your tattered shirt and the hems of your shorts, uncomfortably probing the splinters of wood that peaked out from cuts and grazes across your skin. For the most part, the injuries were minor, but you would need remove the foreign bodies quickly, lest the rot of the cave set into your meat.

You scolded yourself for ever thinking that those gruesome little flowers would save you from any danger. Your mind was a world away as you reached down to pull out the smaller thorns and splinters, until it juddered back into the present, clamping tight to your skull as you spied rusted metal coils screwed deep within your outer thigh. The short but thick upholstery springs tilted and relaxed as you tensed, agitating your electrified nerves and letting thin streaks of blood to drop down your ankles. Their greys and blacks faded to a translucent gradient the deeper they sat in your skin.

You snorted at the absurdity, still processing the injury, yet scowled at the flowers as if those pathetic, insentient plants were the Monster from your nightmares. Regardless, the sight of the sickly, pearlescent petals made your wrist and Soul thump with phantom pains. At least your bones all felt intact, you grumbled, wincing as you pawed around your aching shoulders and scalp for further injuries. If there were more, your surging adrenaline masked their inevitable pain, yet shock somehow helped to steady your footfalls. 

 

With each limping step away from the larger pools, your shoes let out damp squelches that shook an odd sick feeling straight to your stomach. You often looked back, stumbling as you cautiously peeked over your shoulder, somehow thinking the scent of your bloody footprints would attract rogue Monsters.

Your ragged breathing and wet, squishing feet were the only sounds, and the lack of water-fall white-noise disturbed you. Small rivulets carried more brown water down the walls and over the edge of worn ledges, but it seemed the mounds of discarded garbage hardly impeded their way. Or perhaps the water in a previous area had been cut off with dams, causing the remaining liquid below to pool into a standing ponds of bacterial growth and decay? The air lay heavy with humidity that stuck to your slick skin and sodden clothes, and distracted you from the train of thought.

 

The cavern straightened into a long corridor with a low dripping ceiling hanging only meters above your head, flanked by walls of broken metal tools, waterlogged clothes and tangles of electrical cable. Familiar wooden steps and planks lined the sloping floor at odd intervals, squeaking friction against the soles of your shoes. If the water had mostly drained away, the platforms would be well above the tide line, but they currently looked out of place with the stark lack of falls.

Small, crystal like structures hovered in blown glass globes, dotted along the tunnel walls and giving out a gentle glow of purple, guiding you to a tall archway.

 

A small pile of crumbly, dusty chalk crunched underfoot as you gingerly stepped through an ankle deep puddle, kicking away a crushed soda can and a headless doll as you trod along, weaving backwards and forwards around the mountains of garbage. You would have stopped to snoop around the platforms and trash heaps in the hopes of finding something useful, but the pain urged you on. During your time spent in the hotel, your priorities and morality skewed more and more, and you would start something of  _ deathly _ importance, only to forget hours later. Memories of the sweet, sticky urge clung to your palate like the aftertaste of medicinal syrup and chalk. The sweet release of amnesia only left you with more questions: why did you cut your hair? Why did you break that mirror? Why did you want to scream insults though the door at passing Monsters? Why were you thinking about how tempting the shards of glass looked? Were those fleeting, volatile thoughts  _ really _ your own?

 

… Why you? 

Why not anyone else?

 

Did you  _ really _ want trade places with any other Human, no matter how devastating it would be for them, just so you would not have to face the Underground’s reality?

 

Would you really offer up someone else's Soul to so you could be free?

 

Did fate and destiny conspire against you, plotting new ways to bend you until your will broke? Or did something much more sinister than cosmic inevitability lure you to that wide, stoney hole in the mountain?   
  


The tall archway felt unnaturally smooth beneath your thumb: grainy features and details worn down to vague, rounded shapes of stone. Your wrinkled fingertips could barely feel the soft sweeps and once intricate ornamental carvings, though you continued to touch them in fascination.

Grime started drying upon your skin and your clothes permeated a sour smell, making you wrinkle your nose in disgust. Your immediate goal became finding a clean water source, and a way to patch up and sanitise your wounds. A shiver wracked down your spine as sticky and oily liquids trickled down your body. Frowning, you ducked underneath the copious amounts of beige tape and fraying rope that blocked off the archway from the rest of the cave system. You were too tired to notice the ever-so-slight tingle of magic upon your bones as you tripped an invisible wire alarm, ignorant to the safety notices nailed to the wall behind you as you clumsily limped into the next cavern.

  
  


The rounded cave split into several forks on the far wall, directly opposite the garbage archway, but you were mostly interested in the open well of clean, blue water that stretched out in the middle of the room. Scurrying against a shadowed wall, you watched the wide forks in the road, observing the quiet, strangely built houses in their respective cul-de-sacs. In the distance, you could hear the crash of water, but no sounds nor voices came from beyond the opposite hollows. 

The fresh water called out to your tacky, soiled flesh; so tempting, clear and inviting, even just to wash the blood from your nose and the chalk from your hands, but being so exposed in the open made your heart thump in anticipation.

Risking a quick dip to clean your wounds, you tried to make yourself appear smaller as you shuffled towards the clean water. The well looked wide enough for you to climb into, and flowed fast enough to continually ensure fresh, cool water. You drew up a handful of the liquid, cautiously sniffing for any signs of stagnant rot before splashing it against your dirty flesh and sighing as the dirt rinsed away. Glancing around and moving quickly, you lowered yourself into the water, not even bothering to undress. 

 

“Killing two birds with one stone.” A smile twitched at your lip as you mused, rubbing at your clothes and skin with your bare hands. In hindsight, you wished you had grabbed a bar of soap from the hotel, but you also could not recall why you had fled with such urgency.

Occasionally, your hands would tremble as you looked down, watching the shapes of your legs distort and refract underwater. You pushed down the growing, yet very rational hydrophobia and lapped up the pleasant sensation of solid ground beneath your feet, and unpolluted water rushing against your skin. You ground your nails and fingertips against stubborn stains before drawing in a deep breath and dunking below the surface. You tried to ignore to urgent, electric recollection of water flowing into your lungs, but you shook the fear away: you were in control now. Opaque coils of black and brown curled through the water, swirling away into an unseen outlet, carrying away the soiled water as you scrubbed at your crispy hair. Holding air in your cheeks puffed out like swollen balloons, you bit at your tongue, hoping not to gasp in pain as you carefully rubbed around the metal coils. Beneath the water, you froze, suddenly aware of a gentle melody; a twinkling and light  _ plink _ of piano keys. The notes played rhythmically, muffled by the water flowing past your ears and your heart palpitating with anxiety. You allowed yourself to slowly surface, only jutting up your eyes and nose as you looked around the cave like a predatory water creature. 

Transparent liquid flowed from your scalp, trickling down into your eyes as you moved softly, knuckles white as you held your body the ledge. The melody sounded out from beyond the walls of the squat blue house, domed and boarded up with fresh planks of wood and hastily painted. Despite the scattered tool and the haphazard exterior, the haunting tune played proudly, grand and graceful.

With no one in immediate view, you hoisted yourself up again, feeling cleansed, though shivering and frigid. Noisily dripping and splashing water, you backed away from the music and the small wall, scraping your feet along the floor as adrenaline flooded your system. 

 

“Where now?” The thought was barely a steady stream of consciousness within the chaotic churning in your mind. The thumping at your temples muddled up with the pain in your leg, and your Soul hummed in harmony with the cacophony of noise. 

Running your eyes along the other exits to another grand archway, you tried to wade through the mess and think ahead. You had left in such a hurry that you couldn't even remember where you were going anymore.

Something about a castle, or maybe the King? You palmed your eyes, trying to silence your fatigued mind.   
  


Suddenly, water rattled in your chest, itching and grating deep within your lungs, and began a fit of whooping coughs, hacking loudly and bending over at the waist as you spat out a glob of ooze. Your vision swam, head drumming, veins aching at the sudden high pressure. Blinking down at your puddling shoes to ease the vertigo, your hands clutching feebly at your knees. Though clean, your skin looked ashen and grey, dark and especially sullied in comparison to the bleached bones that had suddenly wrapped around your wrist. Your thoughts sludged along slowly as you watched the skeletal arm in your peripheral vision. Another boney hand clamped across your mouth as you bolted upright, catching your scream before it left, turning it into a warbled, muffled shriek.   
  


 

The piano stopped, leaving a note to ring on and echo across the walls, dropping to an abrupt silence.

  
  


Afraid, you wriggled but Sans clutched you close to his solid frame, tucking his chin against the top of your head as he watched the blue house with bright, glowing eyes. You were trapped again, caged and feral like an untamed animal. Your captured hand was brought across your chest and wrapped underneath his arm, tight and unmoving against your ribcage. Panting, you struggled against his grip, forcing down irritated coughs as your lungs clenched.

 

“shhh, shh. it’s okay, it's just me. shh.” He spoke quietly in your ear, whispering in a low voice that slowly eased your frantically pulsing Soul. Somehow, his presence brought about an unnatural state of calm, leaving you pacified and exhausted. Despite the vice grip upon your lungs, the shifting of his bones against your back felt… comforting.

 

“i- i’m sorry i scared you, but it's dangerous here: ‘captain of the royal guard lives there, and she ain’t left her house today.” You could feel him nudge his head in the direction of the newly erected blue house. Your weak grasp on Sans’ arms relaxed, though you still held onto him with frightful abandon. The pristine bones beneath your puckered skin grounded your lightheadedness.

You slowly nodded, brain rolling around in your skull.

His fingers left small, pink imprints across your skin as he released your mouth and wrist, and he held your shivering body closer, arms moving to possessively wrap around your shoulders.

You fought another rattling cough that threatened your chest, and fresh blood began dripping from your leg, even as you leant your weight against his stocky frame. Something told you to struggle further,  _ get away from him _ , and  _ keep going _ , but exhaustion somehow gave you the power to ignore the impulsive, parasitic urges. You were too tired to dwell upon those thoughts, fleeting and forgotten as quickly as you recalled them, and even if you wanted to, your body felt too burnt out to act upon them.

His hold became a comforting source of warmth, but it was becoming difficult to avoid putting pressure on your feet in such an uncomfortable position. You fidgeted your weight from your bad leg and whimpered in pain. Eyes glazed and frowning, you watched red bleed across the tops of your shoes, staining the fabric like an infectious inkblot.

 

“i… i think she heard.” Sans interrupted the silence once more, voice breaking uncharacteristically from his even, controlled rumble. Your head snapped upwards, eyes flittering around the features of the unassuming house. You couldn't see his expression as he slouched further against you, but his voice held a tired slur. Maybe he was just as exhausted as you felt. 

 

“m’sorry.” you whispered, and the words rolled from your tongue almost habitually as you had no idea what you were apologising for. Your voice barely came out, trembling in a thin whisper so quiet, in fact, that you were sure Sans didn't hear, but he acknowledged; nodding.

  
  


“GREATER DOG? YOU BETTER NOT BE EATING THE ECHO FLOWERS OUT THERE AGAIN!” 

 

You both flinched, and skeletal hands closed in on you once more. The loud, scratchy voice called out the name once more, alongside clattering and crashing from within the blue house.

 

“Sans..” you whimpered his name in a high and cracking voice, so laced with fear and panic that his own frown deepened into a grimace. He was grateful for the water that made you skin slick and clothes heavy, so you could not feel his fretful sweat drip onto your crown. He pulled you back a step at the sound of groaning planks echoing from the cave’s hollow.

 

“Punk, I think I accidentally boarded myself in again! Fuhuhuhu! Help me break the door down!” The Captain called, cackling as something heavy and solid thumped against the wood across the door well. The noise, the fear, the compressing pain upon your body grated against your overstimulated senses.   
  


“looks like we’re out of time… close your eyes.” Sans muttered through his teeth and you let out a squeak in response, eyelids fluttering closed as you clung to the cusp of consciousness. Vertigo tilted the ground beneath your feet, quickly shifting your already unsteady balance. In an instant static screeched against your ear drums, gravity ceasing to exist yet pulling you in all directions at once.

Your dirtied nails scraped against the bones of his arms as you clutched onto him for support, and Sans hissed, vibrant blue light blazing from his eye rolling back into his head. Too involved in the effort to not collapse, you hardly felt the safety net of Sans’ hold loosen. His head drooped forward, thick skull smacking against your shoulder. 

Fat tears rolled across your damp cheeks and you let out a wet, stricken sob when the darkness began to peer straight through the Void.

 

It saw you. 

 

It knew you were there, clinging to the limp bones of an overexerted Monster, and it knew you were afraid.

Floating. Vulnerable. Afraid.

 

The static reached out.

And pushed you away.

  
  
  
  


The first time you woke up, panic bled into your tired, sunken mind as you found yourself in a dark room, lying upon a pile of soft fabric. You were awkwardly hunched across a mattress, curled onto your side with something solid grinding underneath your chest, poking at your ribs. Blearily, you looked around. It was too dark to make out any shapes amongst the mess of the room, and you momentarily wondered why you were back at the Inn. 

A sigh heaved at your chest, forcing its way through your nose. The beginnings of pain crept up your nerves and you refused to move for fear of agitating… something. You knew something had happened, you were injured, but sleep lulled you, apathetic, to sink further into the lumpy bed.

The static was gone, unable to hurt you in the sanctuary of the room, leaving your ears to ring in the quiet. Something soft tickled against your arm, but your mind was occupied, not quite able to process the sudden change of scenery.

In the corner of your eye, you could see  heavy snow falling from a dark sky, barely visible behind the condensation of the window. Final spurts of adrenaline sputtered into your system as something shifted against you. Involuntarily you flinched, cringing away from the dark mass, only for it to pull you closer. The form shuffled, turning further towards you and flopping back down, causing the matress’ springs to groan.

 

“hah, shit.” Sans laughed in disbelief, wiping a shaking hand down his sweating skull. He wasn't sure where exactly the both of you would end up, and already he was feeling the pain of overexertion. But now the both of you were sprawled across the messy bed, limbs tangled, wedged between a crumpled and torn sheet, and mis-matched pillows. Sans pulled his arm from underneath your contorted spine, and your tight shoulders began to relax. The closeness of his bones and his clammy forehead resting against your own made you feel... protected.

Comforted. 

Safe.

 

Your eyelids dropped, but you continued to stare. Just watching, thinking, allowing the wonderful call of vague numbness to wash over you.

You could only just make out the glowing pinpricks of his eyes, illuminating the dark grey lines beneath his sockets. His skeletal features looked so soft, so tired within the darkness of the room.

A shaking hand tentatively lowered onto your own, clasped together in between your curled up bodies. You didn't pull away and Sans felt his aching joints loosen, listening to your breathing become more even and shallow.

 

You still couldn't understand how skeletons closed their eye sockets, but unsurprisingly, you followed suit, falling into a deep yet nightmare filled sleep.


	20. Bed Springs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains detailed descriptions of mild gore and a gross injury.

****It would have been nice to wake up steadily, Sans thought, maybe to the smells of freshly brewed coffee and a loving somebody curled against him body. However, he found himself awoken with a start as a particularly warm somebody gave a high, screeching whine, jolting him to sit straight up and look around the room in confusion.

“wha-?” Sans ground a knuckle into his sleepy eyes, mumbling to himself, until you gave another pain filled whimper and he span around. Your heels were pushing weakly against the mattress, spine bent awkwardly as you hunched against the headboard, clenching and unclenching your hands until your knuckles were taut and white. Your skin looked clammy, unnaturally ashen, and a pale that clashed harshly against the dark circles under your frantically searching eyes.

“kitten?” Sans felt his Soul hum with worry and he slowly reached over the bed towards your trembling figure. You hardly seemed to notice him as you pawed at one of your calves hidden beneath the duvet. Each time your fingers traced against the fabric, you ground your teeth and inhaled sharply, drawing your hand away quickly.

Despite the dim, grey-blue light of dawn filtering in through the window, he could easily make out the dark stains quickly bleeding up through the fabric. The monochrome light made the liquid look like ink, slick and goopy upon the pale and creased sheets.

Sans knelt, slowly crawling towards you, oblivious, and he wondered if he had time to make notes of your strange reactions. As if broken from a trance, you finally looked up and towards him slowly advancing across the creaking mattress, and the sob that split from your lips made Sans frown deeper.

 

The soft linen sheets shifted upon the bed, rustling and whispering as they fell from your body, and you jumped again as the fabric caressed ever so gently across your legs. You gave a keening whimper as Sans’ fingers carefully clasped the linens, pulling them from your blood encrusted skin. The fabric pulled tight in several places where it seemed almost fused to your body with heavily dried gunk, snagging on _something_ else attached to you body. Coagulated blood dripped down your leg, collecting against the crusted, flaking pits of red and shining silver metal. Peppered about your leg, from below the knee to around your ankle, were sharp points of debris, metallic shards, splinters of wood, and Sans gripped hard upon the sheets in his hand as he stared at the three, thick spirals of metal buried beneath your flesh.

 

“ah shit.”

 

He sat back on his knees as he studied the short metal coils embedded within your legs. Mind racing, he tried to think of anything useful that he had read about human skin injuries. His expression would have looked contemplative, rocking back against his heels with a hand clasped around his teeth, if not for his dangerously wide eyesockets, pupils dimming and fading as he gawked in shock.

“uh, are you okay?” was all Sans could splutter out, an unsuccessful attempt at comforting you. You looked up at him, eyes wild and brows knitted as you bit the inside of your cheek. Clearly not. Sans pulled the sullied sheets further away from your torn up skin and pushed the fabric beneath your leg, until it was dense enough to hold the weight of your propped up leg.

He could see your muscles twitching beneath your tainted skin and you gasped, muttering curses beneath your shallow breathing.

 

“Ca-can you heal this?” You glanced up at him, eye shining with tears.

 

Sans opened his mouth to speak, but all he could do was gape, stutter out meaningless, half finished words as he shook his head. The wounds looked raw, and something about the ragged, oozing pits made his magic stir uneasily. It looked surreal, so.. so real and _living_ , instead of a clean break or dusty patch where flesh once sat. His Soul unhappily chewed at the insides of his ribcage as he watched you shuffle in pain.

“i… i can't. i don't-" He finally managed, tearing his eye-lights away from your leg. The plain blue walls of his bedroom suddenly seemed particularly interesting.

“Hospital?” You asked, though you both knew that it would never work: your Humanity would be too obvious. The pitted texture of the wallpaper became intensely interesting as the silence wore on. He did not see your face fall in disappointment, but after you scrunched your eyes closed, you nodded, resolute.  


“Alcohol.” You strained out in a pained wheeze and Sans quirked his head, watching your whole body tighten and shake.

 

“i don't think it's a good idea to be drinkin’ in this situation? Once read ‘something about it thinning your bloo-”

“ _Sans_ .” Your eyes snapped open and shot him a long, deathly glare. Already white knuckles gripped your knee tighter, “Either you heal this, _right now_ , or bring me some **_fucking alcohol_ **!” Your voice ended in a shrill scream that echoed from the now incredibly uninteresting walls.

“yes boss!” He squealed in a panicked cough, and scrambled from the bed, breaking the magical barrier that he had placed upon his bedroom door, and raced down to the kitchen.

Furiously scrabbling in cupboards, he could hear you shout again, with something akin to fear lacing your cries.

 

“‘’Purest you have!”

 

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile, and he wondered if it was worth making horrible jokes given the situation. It would probably keep you from going into shock, but his thoughts were rushing too by too hectically for him to ponder too long.

 

“Matches.”

 

_A pause in which Sans’ Soul skipped a beat. What…?_

 

“And tweezers! Metal!”

 

His teeth clicked together as he grimaced, but you _had_ to know what you were doing, he thought trustingly.

The tips of his fingers clanked against the glasses and bottles as he pushed them aside, shaking his head at the homebrew Lucky whiskey, half a bottle of Tuberous-Root Vodka, several small capped bottles of Echo Flower Mead, an annoying dog, a- wait- Sans balanced on his metatarsals, reaching high into the shelf, before pulling out the vodka. Nodding to himself, he hopped through darkness and shivered as still air seeped into his bones. The small, dank room sent a shiver up his spine as he walked around, barefoot.

“tweezers… tweezers… something metal?”

He grumbled, pushing away papers and mechanical parts from his messy work desk. The disorganised chaos of literature and broken pencils usually spelt disaster when he was searching for something in particular, and the task was made even more difficult when he wasn't sure exactly what he could use.

 _What would a skeleton need tweezers for?_ He thought, though it was understandable that your mind wasn't exactly coherent.

 

Dubiously, he gripped a pair of very long, very thin needle nose pliers and shrugged. It would have to do.

Through the woodwork and bricks of the house, he could hear you give another shout, though the noise was indistinct and muffled.

“matches. matches? matches…” He repeated over and over, the mantra gaining momentum as he studied the small workroom, eyelights searching quickly over mathematics dissertations, theoretical physics books, an upturned box of strange metal shapes and machine parts, numerous loose pages, on which the writing appeared scrawling and scratchy in the dark. Just as the skeleton’s hands hovered over the light switch, which he had forgotten about in his hurry, he paused in front of a portable blowtorch. Nervously, he tapped his fingers against the cold brick wall, but snatched up the long metal tubes and gas cannister before disappearing from the hidden workshop.  


 

You gave a strangled cry as he reappeared in the middle of his bedroom, and he looked as equally panicked when your Soul began beating louder. It was a difficult thing, watching you heave out another tearless sob, and though his insecurities told him “you are not capable of do this”, he stomped towards the bed.

“Wha-?” You gawped in disbelief, dry mouth hanging open as you stared as the eclectic collection bundled in his arms. He hopped from foot to foot, nearly vibrating with nervous energy.

“Ugh.. It’ll do.” You groaned, and as the room grew lighter, Sans could make out tear tracks upon your dirty cheeks. Your voice held an apprehensive lilt as you spoke, instructing him to fetch some boiled water and clean rags.

  


 

  


With every pass of the damp rag against your bloodied leg, you gave a flinch, and Sans winced in return. The quiet room was interrupted by gentle splashes of water, even quieter apologetic mumbles and soothing whispers.

His hands shook as he wrung the fabric into a bowl of steaming water and brought it to your leg once more. Despite his best efforts, occasionally his trembling bones would knock against the exposed edge of metal with a soft _tink_ , and you would scream. A hoarse, unadulterated scream that made both your own and Sans’ toes curl in horror. As he sopped up the freshly seeping blood from the ragged edges of your wounds, you scooted upright a little more and held out a shaking hand.

 

“A-alcohol.” You huffed, exhausted. Sans watched as you studied the handwritten label glued to the smooth glass and gently sloshed the clear liquid inside. As expected, you uncorked the bottle and swallowed a large mouthful, ignoring the burn as it swilled down your throat, heating your empty stomach. Sans knelt close by, watching as you pushed the bowl of water beneath your leg and carefully poured the sharp, stinking liquid across your skin. The alcohol stung like a blade’s point as it seeped into your wounds, trickling down your calve and dripping into the bowl below.

“wha- what should i do?” Sans asked and you solemnly looked up at him.

“Heat the pliers with the matc- uh, blowtorch, make sure they get really hot. ‘Needs to be sterile.”

He clutched the small, strangely curved tube in his hand and screwed the cannister of gas onto one end. He frowned as you eyed the tool wearily, and he gripped the cold metal tighter.

 

“are you sure?”

 

Your shoulders slouched as you drank deeply from the bottle, dirty fingernails clutching desperately against the glass. You nodded as you capped the bottle before gripping a length of fabric and tearing it into long strips.

“They,” You gestured to the three thick springs buried within your leg, “need to come out. Now. They n-need to be twisted out, the way they went in. Not pulled out and de-definitely not left in.”

You jumped as Sans clicked the torch on, breaking the quiet panic of the room with a gentle crackle and _whoosh_ of flames. The metal ends of the pliers began to blacken as they were held steadily within the bright blue stream of fire.

“The wounds need to be flushed out, sterilised with the alcohol, and stitched up with nylon thread. Or cauterised? I can't tell yet…” you chewed the bleeding skin inside your mouth as you contemplated your injuries.

Sans’ eyes flickered from the equipment in his hands, to your own unsteady gaze. He nodded, projecting as much confidence as he could muster. It was easy to pretend that everything was okay, and that it would be simple to pull lumps of metal from your foreign, yet deadening flesh; he knew it _needed_ to be done, but convincing himself was a much more difficult task.

You whimpered as you tried to stop your limbs shaking, wrapping and winding fabric around your thigh. The home-made tourniquet twisted tighter, fabric puckering your skin and squeezing the blood pumping beneath.

 

“Sans.”

 

He stared, clicking off the torch and placing it on the bedside table. The pliers in his hand suddenly felt very heavy as they came closer to the largest spring.

 

“If I pass out, keep going.” You mumbled, jamming a fresh rag between your teeth.

  


 

  


Unfortunately, you never lost consciousness.

 

No matter how much you could feel each small movement of the metal inside your muscle. No matter how the wet tearing noises of your sinewous flesh churned your insides, nor the sharp sting of splinters being ripped from deep beneath the wounds, you somehow didn't pass out. You cried, you screamed, you wept for sweet numbness. But it never came. As your teeth ground against the sodden rag, and the tingling sensations of alcohol numbed against your pain zapped nerves, you sobbed. Sweat dripped from Sans browbone as he slopped more of the alcohol inside of each pit and crevice of your skin, taking care to remove and clean each speck and splinter. You were constantly on the cusp of sleep, so concentrated on pulling and pushing each breath through your ground teeth that you did not notice Sans leave, only to reappear seconds later.

The pliers clicked against each other as they tugged against your skin, threading and binding the wounds closed. Blood stained against his hands, splattering and soiling the pristine bones of his forearms as he worked, wrapping your entire leg in a fresh bandage rag.

 

You both panted once the used bucket and blood slick materials were moved away, and your head lolled to the side as Sans gently lowered you to lay down. Red smudged against your shoulder as he pushed you down. The bed frame creaked as Sans dropped heavily onto his pillow, kicking away the crusted, bloody sheet onto the floor.

Your hands were slick with sweat as you palmed around the bed, one hand grasping the cold glass bottle, the other catching on Sans’ hand. Each breath caught in your throat, causing a sick rattling in your chest, but you fought the cough in order to gulp the last of the alcohol, never releasing Sans damp hand.

The skeleton lay on his back, watching your chest heave as you breathed and your eg shake as it lay propped upon his fluffiest pillow.

“Why wouldn't you heal that?” You asked, staring up to the ceiling.

“‘s’not that i wouldn't: i can't.” He answered honestly, gripping your hand tighter against his side, and despite your uncomfortable sigh, he couldn't ignore the way you shuffled closer to him.

“ya see, monsters don't get sick: we’re made of magic, and magic don’t get sick. healing energy targets the dusted, uh- discharged magic when we get injured and removes it in order for new magic to regrow and form, essentially fillin’ in the missing pieces of the body or, uhm, life force.” He stopped to take a breath, suddenly feeling weak. Rest was helping, but he knew that soon you would both need some food in order to recover.

 

“but with humans, you’re all physical, carbon based beings. there’s magic in you guys al’right, but now it’s only deep in your souls, so the healing magic don’t know where to go. humans are really complex, i mean, your physiology, so it’s reckless, aimlessly forcin’ regular green healing magic to fix something like a scratch-”

 

“Or a broken bone.” You interrupted, holding up your free hand.

 

You could feel the skeleton monster’s confused gaze boring into the side of your head.

“When I… fell down here, I broke my arm.” You explained, rolling your wrist, and the joints crunched and clicked together. Sans winced, shrinking in on himself.

“But a Monster found me, and healed it. I had passed out at the time, but when I woke up, she said she had fixed it.” You studied the unbroken skin of your arm ponderously.

“I’m sorry I just assume that you could heal my injuries too. Magic is, uh, pretty new to me.” You gave a weak chuckle and heavily dropped your arm to your side.

 

Sans hummed, contemplating who under-earth could have performed such a feat.

 

“the only monsters that can heal humans are those from before the barrier. there's only two or three left in the entire underground now.” He shrugged his bony shoulders. “without human contact, and the need to heal them, there was no point passing it on and teachin’ the next generation. i guess the knowledge ’s been lost over time?”

 

 

You both settled deeper into the bed and deeper into thought. Your leg thumped with a harsh, dull ache as you blindly unwrapped the tightly knotted fabric from around your thigh. The sudden rush of blood felt strange, like an incoming tide slamming against the inside of your veins. You knew the pain was only temporary, but you tried to concentrate on the pitter-patter of snow against the window, and the feeling on Sans brushing his thumb against the soft pads of your hand. A comfortable silence filled the bedroom and your eyelids began to droop.

  


For the first time in quite a while, there were no nagging urges creeping against your spine, nor inky feelings crawling in the marrow of your bones. It was just you and Sans, side by side, watching the room grow lighter and lighter still.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.
> 
> A rather... uh, gross chapter from Sans' POV, but I thought it would be nice to balance it out with a bit of fluff and relationship/character building.  
> Though I wasn't joking when I said that this was a slow burn ;3 
> 
> Feel free to comment, hit the kudos if you think my work deserves it, or message me on Tumblr at:
> 
> http://athenanuu.tumblr.com


	21. Maybe Staying Isn't So Bad?

“Sans.” You whispered in the dark. Sleep fogged your eyes, and a dull pain throbbed against your entire body. The place stank of copper and metallic grime, but you were far too comfortable in the warm bedroom to open a window. With great difficulty you shifted your aching hips, shuffling without jostling your leg and turned towards a dark mass of lumps upon the mattress.

“Sans?” You groped around the bed, blindly slapping around the lumpy shapes until you hit something solid. Hoping the sharp angle was an arm beneath the sheet, you gave it a quick poke and hissed his name again.

 

“Sans!”

 

“kid?” He groaned, opening a single eye; the pinprick of white appearing much brighter in the gloom. His face was illuminated in a gentle white glow, making his features stand out pointed and sharp.

“Oh good, you're still here.”

“not goin’ anywhere. don't worry.” His voice sounded low and gravelly, with a timbre that rumbled against your bones. “would you get all _bonely_ without me?” He tittered, but took note of your silence and your eyes glazed over in an expression he couldn't quite place.

“Shut up. It's dark; I couldn't see if- if..” You mumbled, trying to stifle a yawn.

“sup?” He mumbled groggily.

All of a sudden your tongue felt very dry, like velvet glued into place upon the roof of your mouth. Apprehensive, you licked your lips.

“Uhm, you said Monsters don't get sick, but do you guys have any human medicine, or painkillers?” You frowned, dropping your head back onto the downy pillow.

“why? do you need some pills to make your eyesight better?” he snickered, holding a hand over his teeth in a vain effort to hold in his guffaws.

“What?” Confused, you quirked an eyebrow, though you weren't sure he could see your expression in the dark.

“‘heh- ‘cause- hehe- i can get you some stare-oids!” Sans burst into laughter, causing his body to shake so violently that the bed began rocking.

Frustrated, you shoved a palm against his shoulder and he dramatically rolled onto his back, laughing louder.

“Tha- That's not funny!” You snapped, spinning away from him to glare at the wall. The sudden movement made smarting pains to shoot through your bones, and you winced.

Though Sans’ laughter eventually subsided into an occasional giggle, you sighed, and watched your breath condensate upon the cold wall.  


 

“It hurts…” You admitted in a soft voice.

 

A sudden fidgeting and wriggling made the bed shake more, and you half hoped Sans was leaving so you could sulk alone. You were about to turn to check the doorway, but a shadow loomed over you. He pulled your back towards his chest, snuggling you close into his lap. One solid arm wriggled its way through the gap between your shoulder and your neck, and the other wrapped softly across your waist. His skull nuzzled into the back of your head and he melted into the scent of your hair.

“I know, kid. m’sorry. i’ll go see the doc, or maybe check the dump to see if i can find anything.”

His words bloomed in puffs of breath against your ear and it was so very tempting to lose yourself in the sensation of his warm body tucked tightly against your spine, but you flinched; memories of the garbage mounds made the hairs on your arms stand on end. Sans would definitely be making that trip on his own, you shuddered.

“Doctor?” you asked, hope tingeing your voice with an interested lilt.

“eh, not _that_ kind of doctor ‘m’afraid. even if she had some kind of medical training, it would be for monsters, so i dunno how she’d react to a human.”

You hummed, deep in thought, tensing when Sans’ breath sent hairs tickling against the nape of your neck.

“kid- uh, grace?” He spoke quietly into your crown, voice muffled by skin and choppy locks. You quirked your head.

“what ha- i mean, if you're feeling up to it can i ask- ugh.” Sans sighed heavily, burrowing further into the pillow and holding you tighter. You curled your legs up closer to your body, still feeling exhausted. A skeletal hand restlessly traced pattern upon your stomach.

“what i’m tryna to say is, when you're ready to talk about what happened back there, and what happened to your leg, i’m here for ya.” He grumbled out his words with his eyesockets squeezed shut.

Almost through instinct, you began shaking your head, but stopped mid motion. After a long night of gathering your thoughts, maybe you _were_ ready to talk. The weights of the sickly impulses sat heavily upon your Soul, and you were finding it easier and easier to trust the skeleton Monster. He fidgeted nervously, scooting a little further away to give you some space. He wanted so desperately to help, but feared you would reject it, and the thought made his chest feel tight with anxiety.

 

You gave a curt nod as you unconsciously chewed at your finger nails, only to spit out the grit and dried blood that had gathered around your fingertips.

“ _Blech!_ ” You held your tongue out, nearly gagging at the taste of sour dirt and chalk. “Maybe after a shower.” In the gloom you studied your filthy hands and wondered how the rest of your body faired. Your skin felt sticky and flaky at the same time, but your insides were churning in hunger and pain.

“And some food.”

Sans beamed, pointed canines parting into a huge grin.

“Painkillers first. I think I had some paracetamol in my bag?” You pondered aloud.

Sans snorted out a laugh, “what is it with you and that absurdly large bag? there's so much stuff in there! how can you find anyth-”  


 

The front door slammed, followed by quick and heavy footsteps. Someone rapped heavily against the door, reverberating against the adjacent wall, and you let out a shriek in fright.  


“SANS? WHERE UNDER-EARTH HAVE YOU BEEN?”   


Sans pushed his way out of bed, stumbling around the cold bowl of bloody water, almost knocking over the lamp and blowtorch from the bedside table. He pulled open his bedroom door and blinked up at his brother. Synthetic orange light spilled into the room from the hallway, and you groggily blinked at the sharp silhouettes.

The chipper liveliness of Papyrus’ entrance made Sans stand taller, and a hint of a smile graced his own teeth.

“sup?” He leant a shoulder against the door frame as Papyrus jogged on the spot, thick soled shoes wearing against the hideous carpet.

“DON’T “SUP” ME, BROTHER! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE AT YOUR STATION HOURS AGO!” He looked anxious, peering down at his brother with concern.

“AND WHAT IS THAT ON YOUR ARM? I DIDN'T KNOW YOU'D TAKEN UP PAINTING!” Papyrus gasped, “THAT BETTER NOT BE KETCHUP!” Sans’ grin froze when a gloved hand poked a spot of crusted blood.

“uh..” The shorter skeleton zoned out, until you suddenly appeared behind him, eyes peeking up behind his shoulder. You scrunched up your face, realising how tall and stocky Sans was as he took up a considerable amount of space under the archway. You couldn't press between the ajar door, so settled for standing as tall as you could, speaking over a pointed shoulder.

“It’s my fault.” your voice broke, sounding dry, and cracking as if you hadn't spoken in years. Today felt like a good day for quietness.

Sans snuck a glance towards you, eyeing the bloody stains and grime smeared over your body. Papyrus stopped jogging, arms bent by his sides with one leg pulled high as if he were about to sprint away again.

“I’m, uh, molting.” You lied, face contorted into a sour expression and Sans’ slumped. You braced one arm against the wall, trying to hide your bandaged leg behind Sans’ thick bones. The floor seemed to shift below your foot as you balanced your weight unevenly on one leg, and you gripped onto the back of Sans’ shirt for support. The fabric felt damp beneath your fingers. _How does a skeleton even sweat?!_ You cringed, hoping the expression made you seem uncomfortable with the situation. The fabric rehydrated crusted blood on your palm, but you very much aware that you were in an even worse state than a sodden shirt. You couldn't tell if the brothers noticed, but you were disgusted with your “obviously hasn't showered for a while” smell. It smelt like night sweats and old blood. What you wouldn't give for the spray deodorant from your bag; wherever that had gotten to.

“MOLTING?!” Papyrus shouted, eyelights flicking between your small, shaking frame and Sans’ tight smile. He hovered patiently, waiting for an explanation.

“s’not very nice to ask about personal things like that, paps.” Sans nodded quickly. The taller skeleton gasped again, bringing his arms to his armoured chest and stepping backwards in horror.

“IS THAT THE TIME WHERE YOUR HORNS GROW IN? SANS MENTIONED IT BEFORE YOU WENT TO THE HOTEL, BUT I WASN'T AWARE HE WAS GOSSIPING! I'M TERRIBLY SORRY, SANS’ FRIEND!”

You nodded in faux-agreement, patting the top of your head to emphasise your newly-founded struggles with an invented biology. You had almost forgotten about your disguise, and had no idea where the headband had also gotten to, but your messy hair piled about your head so tall that distinguishing “horns” would be difficult. You would cry at the sight of a hair comb or brush, but you were confident that the skeletons had no such thing about the house.

“I SEE. ISN'T IT FASCINATING HOW WE MONSTERS VARY! I KNOW THAT WE SKELETONS ALSO HAVE, uhm, ‘PERSONAL’ THINGS WE HAVE TO DEAL WITH AS WE GROW.” He awkwardly bowed his skull, unsuccessful in trying to hide the embarrassed, orange blush that spread across his face.

A small twinge of guilt threaded against your chest as Papyrus eagerly lapped up the lie, even going so far as to empathise to help your plight. It was a dishonourable thing to do, lying to somebody, especially when their intentions were harmless. The ocean blue of your Soul hummed angrily at your actions. _It's for survival_ , you reassured, but it didn't help much. Maybe you could make it up to him, one day. As much is your insides burned with shame, you hoped Sans would reveal the truth to Papyrus soon.

 

Sans shuffled his feet and gave a cough at the sudden, painful silence and you clutched tighter against his back. Perhaps the guilt was sitting heavier upon Sans, given how close the brothers appeared. But it wasn't your truth to tell...

 

 _Or was it?_  


“so, grace, you can go get clean, ‘cause hygiene is important when you’re, uh, molting, and i’m gunna go out to grab some things.” he shoved his hands into the pockets of his short, acting casual.

“THINGS? BUT WHAT ABOUT YOUR JOB?! UNDYNE WILL BE VERY MAD IF YOU DON'T TURN UP!” Papyrus grumbled in disbelief. His volume was beginning to make your ears ring, but you politely nodded along to the conversation.

“don’t worry, i asked doggo to cover my shift so i could help grace.” he shrugged, nonchalant and smiling. “but i will need your help, paps.”

The shorter skeleton leaned forward, cupping a hand around his mouth, the other hand beckoning conspiratorially. Papyrus’ eyelights flashed brighter and he crouched to his brother’s level. Voice lowered, Sans whispered to his brother, shoulders curling as he hunched.

“my buddy here is feeling pretty down, and “the molt” is a delicate time of the year.” You were still standing only a foot away from Sans’ hushed whispering, but you pretended to not eavesdrop, instead scowling at the horrible hallway carpet.

“you know that you're like the sun, right?” Sans began, but Papyrus squinted. You rolled your eyes, pretty confident that you had heard this before, somewhere in a loud club: the terrible pick-up line tumbling from drunk lips.

“BROTHER, YOU KNOW AS WELL AS I THAT NEITHER OF US HAVE SEEN THE SU- OH! THIS BETTER NOT BE THE SET UP TO A TERRIBLE JOKE!”

“but- heh- but you're the best at cheering people up, d’ya think you could lend me a hand in brightening their day?”

Both of their eye sockets scrunched up as they smiled, and Papyrus squealed in delight. Much to Sans’ chagrin, Papyrus was too excited to react to the joke.

“OF COURSE! I WILL MAKE THIS THE MOST EXCITING, THRILLING, CHEERING-UP-WITH-PUZZLES DAY EVER! IT'S A GOOD THING THAT IT'S MY DAY OFF, SO WE CAN GO TO THE FOREST STRAIGHT AWAY!” He clapped a fist against his other hand in triumph.

“ah, they have to stay indoors and rest, bro.”

“Oh.. WELL THEN, I WILL MAKE THIS THE MOST RELAXING, EXCITING, RESTFUL DAY OF REST EVER! BUT I HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN HOW EXCITED YOUR FRIEND WAS ABOUT TRYING OUT MORE PUZZLES, SANS’ FRIEND!” Papyrus boomed, and you couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. It felt nice that he had remembered a small detail from so many weeks ago.

“sounds good! you gunna be okay keepin’ an eye on ‘em?” Sans nudged the door open a little more, pushing himself away from the doorframe. Papyrus crouched down further, before springing away, flying backwards into the air and flipping clear down the stairs. Your eyes grew wide and you laughed loudly, a small bundle of happiness shifted the tense weight from your shoulders.

“I SHALL PREPARE HEALTHY SNACKS FOR OUR EVENTFUL, erm, I MEAN RESTFUL DAY!”

 

Sans stood and gripped onto your elbow to support your wobbly balance. His hand held you almost painfully as he watched his brother run out of view and into the kitchen.

 

“SANS, YOU EAT BURGERS. IS THAT A GOOD “RESTING” FOOD?” The excitable skeleton called, clattering pots and slamming cupboard doors. Sans laughed in response before turning back to you, thankfully loosening his hold.

“are you gunna be okay cleanin’ up on your own? might be difficult keeping your bandages dry.” he glanced down at your leg, smile drooping at the small patches of blood seeping through the fabric. Concern etched upon his bones as he searched your face, but you gave a confident nod.

“okay, well if they get wet, we can change them later. but you can always call me if you need anything.” he seemed reluctant to let you of your arm, and guided you gently towards the bathroom door. You stopped in the middle of the tiled flooring, spinning on a heel to face him.

 

“Oh, I think I left my bag and that phone in the hotel ro- Oh… The hotel room.”

The lights seemed too bright. The room was too small.

 

“I- I… Oh, oh no-”

 

Everything caught up to you all at once. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you recalled broken chairs, torn curtains and shattered mirrors. _What did you do?_

Suddenly, it became hard to breathe, chest tightening in panic.  


_The bedsheets lay in tatters against the ground, barely covering the crushed remains on an ornate picture frame. You burnt the painting in the metal bin and repeatedly stabbed holes in the mattress, all the while you were shrieking with manic ramblings and laughter-_

 

“hey, hey! c’mon, breathe.” a gentle force guided you to sit on the edge of the tub. “grace, breathe for me. that’s it. in an' hold it. long breath out.”

You brought a shaky hand to your face, surprised to find your cheeks damp. Each labored breath hurt your ribcage, but you managed to calm down as Sans stroked your hair.

“hey, hey! i don't know what's going on, but it’ll be okay, we can talk about it later. and don't worry, i sorted the hotel room.” he forced a small smile. He felt a revolting shudder wrack his spine, remembering when he had discovered the mess of a room. It hadn’t taken a lot of convincing; even Coral the Innkeeper bought the “molting” lie. There were so many types of Monsters that even he had a difficult time recalling their different stages of life. Sans had happily agreed to pay the full price, and set about salvaging usable pieces from the room- though there wasn't much. Coral had been so forgiving. It made him sick. He had never seen anything like the concentrated fury in which the room and its furniture had been destroyed. He couldn't stop the morbid thoughts crossing through his mind: what would happen if that anger was aimed towards a Monster?

“shhh, it's okay. we’ll figure out what ever's goin' on.” Sans patted your back as you hiccuped into his chest. He wasn't so sure whether he was talking to himself, or the trembling figure in his arms.

 

You hesitated to move, gripping the cold porcelain of the tub. When Sans had instinctively wrapped you up in his guardianship, you were too caught up with some insurmountable goal to stop and concentrate on the present. Everything was always about _moving forward_ or _keep going_ , but you revelled in the stillness of Sans arms wrapped around your body.

 _This is easy,_ you thought, _maybe staying still isn't so bad_.

“you okay there, bud?” He mumbled into your hair minutes later, and you slowly nodded.

“d’ya want me to stay?” Sans asked, but you immediately shook your head. Satisfied that you had calmed down, the warmth of his chest pulled away.

“No; I need something for the pain. And maybe antibiotics, just in case? I- I don't know how long it'll take to heal.” You sighed and began to toe off your single dirty sock. The other one must be hidden within the depths of Sans’ room.

“hmm. okay. text me a list, maybe with names for specific medication, if you can remember. but call me if it’s an emergency.” His grunted, voice sounding strained.

As soon as your guardian turned away, the air in the tiny bathroom began to prickle with energy.

 

“but just because i’m out, ‘doesn't mean you can fuck with my brother.”

 

The emotional whiplash made you head spin and, suddenly, finding your other sock felt unimportant.

“O-of course!” You stammered. Static tickled against your back. Hiding his face, Sans simply nodded, pausing in the door frame.

 

“oh, and kid?”

 

Stomach churning with adrenaline, you found yourself rooted in place, perched upon the tub’s ledge.  

 

“stay inside.” Was all the skeleton warned, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets before skulking out of the bathroom.

The door slammed shut.

  


You were grateful when silence followed, instead of the clicking of a lock.

 

 

~

 

 

With damp hair, you limped as quickly as you could across the hallway, hoping Papyrus would not spot you wrapped up in his towel. Too preoccupied in heading towards Sans’ bedroom door, you barely registered the piles of clothes neatly folded upon the floor. Just in time, you caught yourself upon the banister, one hand clinging to the wooden poles with the other gripping the brown towel tightly around your chest. You bad knee hit the floor with a crunching _thud_ and you bit back a scream.

“SANS’ FRIEND? ARE YOU READY?” Papyrus shouted from the kitchen, thankfully hidden out of view. You cringed as fresh blood streaked down the slightly damp bandages, but you righted yourself and scooped up the pile.

“Ye- uhm, nearly.” You called back, but the words almost caught in your dry throat. You swallowed, thankful for the bright blue mouthwash and kelp-toothpaste that had rinsed away the sour taste of last night’s vodka.

  
  


It felt strange being back at the skeleton brothers’ house, almost nostalgic after being cooped up in the hotel room for so long. It felt like an age ago, and you could barely recall why you had left in the first place.

The memories struck you like a bell. Stomach acid clung to your throat. _Not again._

Collapsing onto the bed, you sighed. It was so exhausting being in so much pain, always on edge, mind always racing faster than you could process.

_It's okay. Stillness._

_Calm._

_Quiet._

You tried to think positive, soothing thoughts, but found it only made you sleepy. Rubbing at your eyes, you dropped the clothing bundled in your arms.

 

With a little difficulty, you pulled on a baggy, plum coloured shirt that draped past mid thigh, but you were grateful for the length as you held out a pair of shorts. At least, you thought they were shorts. They looked like child’s clothes, elasticated but far too small and far too form fitting be decent. At least they functioned well as underwear, you scowled. Eventually you dug out a larger, ratty pair shorts from the back of a wardrobe. They too were oversized, worn fabric billowing around your legs, but the elastic around the waist was so shredded that they sat low upon your hips. Cringing, you tied the drawstrings tight and made your way downstairs, towards the smell of cooking food.

 

“OH GOOD, YOU'RE HERE!” Papyrus bellowed with a proud grin upon his skull, dusting flour from his frilly pink apron. “DINNER IS ALMOST READY!”

 

A faint smile tugged at your lips as you hobbled into the kitchen. Maybe staying Underground wouldn't be so bad? Maybe Sans was right, perhaps things were getting better.

 

 

~

 

 

Sans crouched at the edge of the waterfall, shallow but deceptively fast streams of water gurgled passed his feet. The distant sounds of crashing falls, and the cave's trickling and dripping all morphed into a soothing background noise as he dug through your large black duffel bag. Cold in his hands, he pulled out some kind of perfume in a pressurised can. He spritzed the floral deodorant in the air and coughed as the white spray clung to his nasal cavity.

 

“the fuck?” he growled. Was that to cover up a Human’s scent? _Gross._ He much preferred your natural musky odor over the chemically sweet smells. Confused, he shoved it back into the duffel bag.

He pocketed the mall sewing kit in a plastic box, a compact mirror, a small tube of sticky black stuff with a bristled wand and a cardboard box filled with white cotton sticks. _All of this might be useful,_  he reasoned, shifting his feet against the solid stone ground. Sans inspected a holey pair of canvas shoes, a small satin trimmed blanket and blue slippers, before shaking his head and shoved them back, finally zipping the stuffed bag closed.

  
Water splashed around his feet as he hefted the bag up. For a moment he was still, standing upon the very edge of the falls, staring out into the deep darkness where the waterfalls trickled off into the unknown. He could barely see over the edge, only a small fog of white water vapour that misted into nothingness. Briefly, he wondered if it was the right thing to do, but shook his head once more, resolute, and tossed your bag and its contents into the abyss.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans, what are you doing?!
> 
> I wanted to write him San as imperfect, or realistic for lack of a better word. He makes mistakes, there are eventual consequences, even if he thinks he's doing the right thing. Being kinda egotistical, he assumes he is right most of the time, despite his laidback nature.  
> Maybe he'll stop being such a bone-head and learn not to do that shit! :p
> 
> Grace's sickness seems to have stagnated, but I wonder when it will next rear it's ugly head? >;) Not for a little while, because we all get some domestic shit like bonding, arts and crafts, shopping trips, watching movies, family lunch time, cuddling!
> 
> Also, I swear this is a Sans/Reader fic, despite the weird back and forth of feelings. It's just... a very slow burn! Tryin' to go for realism (heh) so plot needs laying out first. 
> 
> Anyway, please feel free to ask any questions, even little things like word building, or my interpretation of UT events, etc! :3


	22. Experiment 1.2-A

 

**Confidential Information**

 

 **For the eye(s) of the Department of Monster Health and Wellbeing** **only**

 

**Flower Experiment 1.2-A**

 

Due to the recent spike in numbers of Monsters being admitted to the Snowdin General Hospital, it has become paramount to find a cure for the epidemic. In order to do this, the underlying cause must be uncovered.

 

**I. Staff:**

 

Dr. Cantus Nix 

\- Chief of Staff at Snowdin General Hospital

\- Specialising in “SOul REcuperation” (SORE)

 

Dr. Ocule of the Ruins Loox Clan 

\- Head of Monster Health and Wellbeing, on behalf of the Dreemurr Kingdom

\- Specialising in “Magical Afflictions and Depletion” (MAD)

 

Dr. Alphys of the New Home Capital 

\- Head Royal Scientist, on behalf of the Dreemurr Kingdom.

\- Specialising in **###REDACTED###**

\- Assisting Dr. Nix and Dr. Ocule, working outside of Snowdin General Hospital, with an in depth study and lab work regarding the epidemic  
  
  
**II. HYPOTHESIS:**

 

The Humans’ factories are producing unknown contaminants that are travelling through the water systems, into the Underground.

This is the only change in our environment in many years, and Monsters are suddenly becoming ill; several have fallen down. These events are unprecedented, with our Hospitals and Clinics thoroughly unprepared for the event of any Monster sickness or illness.

Of course, correlation does not imply causation, but crops are also being affected.

If the root cause is not discovered and dealt with, the blow to our fellow Monster’s lives,  and agriculture and crops could be massive, resulting in further, and more substantial losses.

 

The source of the contamination, and the specifics components must be identified, and each water source must be tested to ensure its continued use.

During the trial Flower Experiments 1.1-B, Dr. Alphys noted that **###REDACTED###**

 

**###REDACTED###**

**[REDACTED]**

**#########**

 

The Flower species “ _Coreopsis Verticillata Magicus”,_ which was once named “ _Coreopsis Verticillata_ ” when it was purely biological and only magically imbued, has now evolved into a 98.6% match with Monster type Magic dust, as a result of direct contact with Monster species’ and their magical influence. (Farming techniques combined with magical energy has resulted into a forced selection process to yield heartier crops.)

As monsters are mainly composed of MAGIC (MAss of Genetic IChor), the results gained from the Flowers should be suitable in working towards a potential cure.

 

The Flower Experiment 1.2-B will use the Flowers in lieu of Monster Trials, a compatible specimen to minimise exposure to contaminants and risk of illness.

The outcome of the Flower Experiments 1.2-A will identify if a particular water source is contaminated, and how it is affecting each sample Flower should correspond to the symptoms of the Patients at Snowdin General Hospital.

From these results, research into a cure and reversal of said pollution can begin.

 

King Asgore resolved to damn up several water sources as a preventative measure, resulting in much of Waterfall’s waterfalls ceasing to fall. Results showing that the water sources are not the cause of the epidemic will give Master Riverperson, Head of Water Hazards and Transport (WHAT) the all clear to reengage the waterways.

Until then, the Stagnant water will continue to be a nuisance.

  
  
**III. MATERIALS:**

_-_ 100 germinated seeds _: Coreopsis Verticillata Magicus_ , formerly _Coreopsis Verticillata_

 

\- 2kg of each soil type from around the Underground:

  - Ruins dust

  - Snowdin outcrops

  - Waterfall marshes

  - Hotlands clay

  - Control: New Home Soil (Soil fallen from atop Mount Ebott, a pure soil used by Humans)

 

-10L of each water type from the sources:

  -Snowdin snow

  -Waterfall water

  -Hotland springs’ water

  -Bottled human water. ~~Strawberry and kiwi flavoured. cannot source enough: too delicious to share.~~ Available quantities too small to produce sufficient result. Discontinue use of this product in the experiment.  
  
  
**IV. PROCEDURE:**

\- Plant seeds in 50grams of soil, employ magic to help germination process and allow for maximum yield. At least 100 healthy samples are required.

\- Remove any defective samples, such as those eaten by pests (or a nuisance hungry Monster)

\- Allow 20 of each seeds to germinate in each soil type, all separated into individual, sterile plastic containers.

\- Separate the flowered plants into categories based upon their respective soils.

\- Water 5 plants of each soil type exclusively with one of each of the liquids

\- Water each plant 10ml of water every 48 hours

\- Create charts and make notes based upon the soil type and the water used, and record any observations at 24 hour intervals

\- Rule out any variables, and avoid cross contamination of water or soil types

\- Repeat as necessary

  
  
**V. OBSERVATIONS:**   
  
**###REDACTED###**

 

**CHARTS**

 

 **###REDACTED###**  
  
  
**VI. CONCLUSION:**

 

 

 

...

 

Alphys sighed as she hunched in front of the computer, bleary eyed, rubbing away the ache that only came from staring at a screen for several hours at a time. The cursor blinked, stuck in place as she contemplated what to write next. Her claws _tick-tick-tick_ ed as she anxiously tapped against the desk.

Everything was going wrong. Despite repeating the experiment again and again, wasting weeks of her times, ruling out all variables, checking for cross contamination, nothing had changed. All of the results were inconclusive, just as she had predicted at the project’s proposal meeting.

The plants had thrived. Many plants had died, but the soil from Waterfall and Hotlands would never have sustain the Golden Flower’s growth anyway. The nutritional and magical components were insufficient, and the flowers wilted and died. Pathetically muted in colour, crispy petals drooped to the floor, whispering as they fluttered across the tiles.

 

That's why she had created her own fertilised soil for the experiments _before..._

 

She knew from the offset that Dr. Ocule’s plans were flawed, but she had been too shy to point out the obvious. Too nervous to speak up; scared of being _noticed._ The Flowers could be a perfect match to Monster type Magic composition, but they would never have a Soul (Source Of Universal Life, she typed into the Conclusion column of her report.)

Regardless of the outcome, the results wouldn't matter. Despite the Chief of Staff’s wishful thinking, it could never be successfully applied to finding a cure, as the experiments were performed upon total insentient lifeforms. Seeds. Plants. Flowers.

No matter how well the selectively bred Flowers had evolved, Monsters don't ‘breathe’ out oxygen; they're expelling old and discharged magic, for star’s sake! _The two were barely comparable!_

 

“If these had souls, maybe the results would be more reliable.” she let out a morbid, exhausted chuckle. Alphys shuddered, suppressing a memory. She knew that when she slept that night, the nightmares would follow; memories manifested into an amalgamation of her sins.

“N-no.” She curled her claws into fists, willing herself not to dwell on the intrusive thoughts.

“Monsters are f-f-falling down, Alphys. They need.. they _need_ _you_! They need the help of a prof-f-fessional!” She squeezed her eyes shut, letting the screen dim as her work idled. The low lights reflected from her smooth yellow scales, setting the desk aglow with amber.

 

“O-okay.” She nodded, speaking aloud once more. “So obvious-sly this isn't working. Monsters aren't absorbing the water like plants. That's s-silly. But it-it-it's okay, we're all panicking and not thinking straight!” She drummed her claws against a ceramic cup of cold coffee, frazzled nerves making her feel nauseous.

“If the water contamination isn't affecting the crops that much, it must be farming methods or bad seeds.”

With deft movements, she typed up a supplementary email to the Department of Agriculture, Farming and Tillage (DAFT), informing them of potential inefficacy of their methods. Hopefully some updated farming books had fallen into the garbage dump, and they could use the information to increase crop yield. She hoped to venture out there tomorrow, or later that evening.

“Good.” The Lizard Monster finally managed a smile at her small victory. It felt good to be productive. Could she even venture into calling her actions… helpful?

 

_But what now?_

 

Scrolling and click the mouse several times, she brought up the lab again and glanced at the “Future Developments” column.

A blank space stared back. Bright. White. Mocking in its emptiness.

Alphys hummed, deep in thought.

“Maybe I could try growing p-p-plants in sealed box, incase the problem is airborne? Oh! What about in a vacuum? No, that's even worse!” Frustrated, she stood and paced the barely lit room.

“B-but that wouldn't solve the problem of the Flowers not having Souls. How can I p-p-possibly gain comparable results.." She grumbled. This was not her area of expertise. 

The padding sound of her footsteps upon the cold tiles echoed into the stillness of the Laboratory. Distracted, she wondered if she could make the place look more homely. Maybe a potted ficus and some posters?

“No!” She groaned, maw snapping shut. She snorted a sigh through her nose, trying to get rid of the sticky, sweet stench of flowers and pollen.

“So what if Monsters r-release old Magic instead of oxygen like the Flowers? The process is essentially the same, even if the components aren't, so why can't I keep trying until I-I run out of options? Maybe further study into the p-process will.. hm. Or- buy some time until I can- ugh!” There wasn't much of a plan formulating in her mind as she paced, backwards and forwards down the hall. She nervously wrung her hands as she thought. _Maybe it would be good to introduce some other elements?_

It would be a reasonable request to ask the Department of Health and Wellbeing for extra time to rule out other variables. But deep down, Alphys knew she was clutching at straws. She watched the hundreds of flowers waving in the gentle breeze of the air conditioning. The artifical magic gave the petals a pearlescent sheen, amplified by the stark light from her computer sceen. Beautiful golden yellows filled the room, the dancing plants cascading pollen in the breeze: another feature magically enhanced to produce a genetically superior species.

A sudden idea occurred to her, rumbling into her mind alongside a stampede of other thoughts.

 

“Maybe.. Maybe impregnating the flowers with magic is affecting them? Maybe the systems of expressing excess materials aren't so different..?”

 

Ignoring her computer and her important reports, she made her way down into the real labs and away from the hoard of Flowers.

“I'm surprised that I'm running out of space. T-this place is so huge.” She talked to herself over the whirr of the elevator. Speaking aloud seemed to comfort her during stressful times. The stars above knew that she didn't have anyone else to talk to.

 

The real lab rooms were much colder than the foyer upstairs, with air circulating and pumping out of vents kept her older experiments and mechanisms in optimal condition. The yellow flowers across the room swayed, almost in greeting as she trod into a storage section.

“Now… Where did I put it?” She moaned, eyes opening wide at the clutter and mess. Large metal rackers were bowing under the weight of mechanical parts, broken electronics, random machines and old computers. Groaning and straining, she pushed aside a dusty box of paperwork. Her claws dug into the cardboard as she hefted it out of the way.

“Oh. T-that was easy.” She giggled, and pulled a pair of metallic gloves from a nearby drawer. She stood on her tiptoes, reaching deep into the shelf and pulled out a large cube. The black surface of the box seemed to ripple with hues of blue and purple as she held it an arm’s length away.

 

The MAgical Resistant REflection Device (MARRED) should have been destroyed many years ago, when the MARRED Project was dismantled. The Project was headed by a previous Royal Scientist, in the hopes of creating technology that reflected or completely shielded magic away. The aim was to create a weapon to spear through the Barrier, splitting the magic apart without the use of Souls, and freeing Monsterkind.

She has no idea how it was made; Sans was the Particle Physicist after all. Long ago, when Alphys had first ventured into the Laboratory, he had tried to explain, but the techno-babble only confused her overstimulated mind.

“Something about reversing polarity to repel magic, something something photons?” She reminisced whilst riding the elevator back up. Maybe he was joking? He joked a lot more back then.

The project was discarded when it was discovered that a weapon would need more power than the entire core to pierce through the Barrier. The power source could be destroyed in the process, potentially exploding, overworked, wiping out half of the Underground. The risk was not worth it.

 

A nebulae of colours fluidly shifted across the panels of the box as she placed it down upon an empty desk. _But how do you destroy something that completely reflects magic?_ The only working prototype from the MARRED Project should have been destroyed, shattered into a million pieces long ago after someone accidentally lost a hand whilst reaching into the containment field without any protection. 

“Monsters are made of Magic after all.” She mumbled, scooping crumbly brown soil with a long silver ladle, dropping through the open top of the box. Her dense gloves nudged the corner of the box as she patted the dirt down, and she winced. If there was a risk of the device being discovered, Alphys could feign ignorance. She hadn't held the position for too long, and there were still many things for the keen scientist to learn.

Using delicate tongs and a long, thin pipette, she planted a cluster of seeds and dripped filtered water on top, just in case.

“Hehe, maybe I should be a botanist, or a florist instead?” She chuckled, closing the boxes lid and tossing the gloves onto the countertop. Behind the swirling opaque black, she could just make out the compact layer of soil. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so far, she made a mental note..

Satisfied with her work, she turned back to her computer and the huge blank screens that towered across the wall.

If the flowers grew unchanged, or thrived to an even greater extent than her controls, her theory may prove correct. If Magic was affecting the crops... could it have an effect Monsters too?

 

“T-time for even more p-p-paperwork.” The lizard Monster huffed and took a seat upon the rolling desk chair. Scooting her little legs along the floor, she hunched over the keyboard and began to type into the “Future Development” section of her report.

She needed to please her superiors, she needed to prove that she was worthy of the title bestowed upon her.

 

**Confidential Information**

 

**For the eyes of King Asgore Dreemurr**

**Only**

 

\- If proven leathal, could the "contaminants" be weaponised against Humans?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this may seem like a bunch of filler, but it is an incredibly important chapter! :o Plot is happening guys!
> 
> Also, hooray for Alphys' first appearance in this fic! I love this tiny little worry-wife :3


	23. A Gift

Papyrus set a large blue bowl in the centre of the table, placing a worn ceramic plate in front of you. As he wandered into the kitchen, you peered into the dish. Fragrant leaves of greens made up most of the salad, with slices of bright, jewel coloured strawberries, some kind of squishy looking white cubes, and soft pink flower petals all mixed in. It had to be the oddest salad you had ever seen, but your stomach rumbled in anticipation.

“OF COURSE, THIS MEAL ISN'T COMPLETE WITHOUT MY SPECIAL SALAD DRESSING!”

Papyrus’ booming voice startled you as he settled himself into a dining room chair. In one gloved hand he held a pair of thick salad tongs, in the other, a bottle labelled “Salad Sauce”. You raised an eyebrow.

“IT'S A SECRET RECIPE WITH A SECRET INGREDIENT, AND I CAN ONLY TELL YOU THAT IT CONTAINS MUSTARD, HONEY AND PEPPER!” He served you a large helping of salad as he spoke and offered you the bottle.

You asked dubiously, “What's the secret ingredient?”

“EXTRA HONEY!” He smiled proudly, but his face fell immediately into a frown “DRAT! YOU'RE VERY SLY, GETTING ME TO SPILL MY RECIPES THAT EASILY!” he playfully wagged a finger at you.

So as not to be rude, you squirted a tiny dollop upon the side of your plate and passed the “sauce” over.

“BUT DON'T WORRY, I CAN ALWAYS ADD EXTRA MUSTARD AND THEN IT WILL BE A BRAND-NEW SECRET RECIPE AGAIN!” Without hesitation he covered his salad with the amber liquid, letting globs of it almost run off the side of the plate.

Cautiously, you speared the leafy greens and several flower petals with your fork, and nibbled. The leaves were soft on the ends with a satisfying _snap_ on the stems, tasting deeply of earth with a sharp bite of… _something._ You tried to think what, exactly, the flavour was, as you savoured the sweet flower petals melting upon your tongue. Absentmindedly you began wiggling your foot as you thought, but hissed as pain radiated up to your knee.

“ARE YOU OKAY, SAN’S FRIEND?” Papyrus frowned with concern, and despite the sweat running down your back, you swallowed and nodded.

“Y-yeah! Just enjoying the food.” You gave a small smile, sliding a hand under the table to rub at your thigh. “So what's in the salad? It's delicious!” you diverted the topic, scooping a forkful of strawberry and chewing quickly. They were the juiciest, sweetest berries you had ever tasted, but there was that flavour again, almost fizzling in your throat.

“REALLY?!” Papyrus gasped, letting his fork clatter against the tabletop. “NO ONE EVER SAID THAT ABOUT MY COOKING BEFORE! WELL, THIS ISN'T COOKING REALLY, SIMPLY FORAGING AND PREPARING INGREDIENTS, BUT AT LEAST _YOU_ LIKE IT! UNLIKE SANS, WITH HIS BURGERS AND FRIES AND YUCK!” He glared at the door, as if his brother were about to walk in at any moment.

“DO YOU REALLY LIKE IT?” He reached across the table with a long, skinny arm and gripped your arm, stilling you from taking another bite.

You smiled and answered genuinely, “Of course! Though there's something in here that I can't quite place.”

Papryus pulled his arm away and began listing off the food, “WELL, WE HAVE EMERALD LETTUCE, COMMON MALLOW LEAVES AND ITS FLOWER PETALS, AND SNAIL’S CHEESE.” You imagined he was counting off the ingredients on his bony fingers, but the gloves just made it seem as if he were tapping his hands together.

 

You eyed the untouched cubes of cheese upon your plate. “How do you milk a snail?”

 

“IS THIS A SET UP FOR A JOKE?” Papyrus’ browbone furrowed deep into his eyesockets. It took effort to bite back a laugh. Clearly Sans used any and all opportunities to rile up his brother with puns and jokes.

“No, I'm genuinely curious; how does one milk a snail to make cheese?” You shrugged, and scooped up a square, holding your fork on display. It seemed to crumble like goat’s cheese as you stabbed another square and sniffed tentatively. It held no particular scent. Papyrus opened his mouth to speak, holding up a hand in explanation, but his words fell short of an actual sentence.

“WELL OBVIOUSLY.. YOU GRAB THE, UH… AND THEN- OR MAYBE YOU…?” His hand flopped at the wrist as his words failed. “I DON'T KNOW!” He looked shocked at the fact.

“MAGIC?” He offered with an abashed smile, before digging into his dressing sopped food.

You glared at the crumbling cheese and grazed your teeth across a corner. Soft and milky, with a sharpness similar to feta, but it held a curiously slimy aftertaste once it slid down your throat. It wasn't you particularly unpleasant, but you couldn't help but wonder if the foraged berries or flowers would make you ill, so you stuck to small mouthfuls of leaves and the cheese-of-dubious-origin. It seemed like you didn't have a choice but to eat what was given. You didn't want to appear rude after such a lovingly prepared meal.

 

Papyrus piled your plate up once more, and cheese began to gunge up the gaps of your teeth. You let out a dry cough, which only served as a reminder to your dehydrated state.

“Uhm, Papyrus?” You asked, suddenly feeling anxious, as if you were intruding. _A burden._ You coughed into your hand.

“Could I get something to drink, please?”

He jumped up immediately, cumbersome knees hitting the underside of the table, cutlery and plates _clunk_ ing as they jumped.

“I'M SO SORRY! I'M NOT USED TO ENTERTAINING, OR HAVING GUESTS OVER, OR ANYONE ELSE FOR THAT MATTER. JUST ONE MOMENT!” He stalked away to the kitchen, cheekbones darkening to a soft shade of pumpkin. The colour inadvertently reminded you of the hotel and you cringed. You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the bridge of your nose, focusing on dry, malleable skin shifting beneath your fingers. Your stomach tensed into a bundle of knots, as you recalled Sans’ parting words. You liked Papyrus, you really did, but the warning made you examine each and every word and action, making you trip up over every little thing. You didn't want to upset anyone.

The flower petals in your mouth were beginning to taste bitter.

 

The tall skeleton poked his head around the kitchen’s archway, parting the string-bead curtain with a large hand and jarred you from your thoughts once more.

“IS LIME SODA OKAY?” His face had faded to a pastel orange, but his expression was still sheepish. “IT'S HUMAN SODA, FROM THE SURFACE! I WAS SAVING IT FOR A SPECIAL OCCASION, BUT YOU'RE THE FIRST GUEST WE'VE HAD OVER, _AND_ YOU LIKED MY FOOD, SO THAT'S A SPECIAL ENOUGH OCCASION FOR ME!”

You nodded, and as soon as he disappeared, quietly scooped your remaining food upon his plate. Upon the surface, and potentially Underground, your actions would've been seen as appalling, but you didn't want food that wasn't rightfully yours to go to waste. Besides, you hadn't touched them, you reasoned as the last of your cheese flopped onto his. Sauce had smeared across your plate in the process, appearing as if you had eaten your fill. Strangely enough, your stomach felt satisfyingly full, and the back of your tongue tingled with that unidentified flavour.

The clattering of beads brought your attention back to the archway.

“WOWIE! YOU SURE WERE HUNGRY!” He placed a clear pint glass in front of you, and the pale green liquid sloshed and fizzed.

You gulped down half of it immediately, gasping for air as you surfaced. Just as you were about to let out a happy sigh, your stomach bubbled, and you instantly regretted the decision.

 

You burped. Loud.

 

It was your turn to blush; a furious dark red that felt as if it spread from your collarbone to the tips of your ears.

Papyrus stopped, staring at you with eyesockets opened wider than you’d ever seen. He covered his mouth, and the shaking of his shoulders gave him away. Soon, he couldn't hold it in. His laughter was bright, loud yet twinkling with unadulterated amusement. You shrank into yourself, wishing you had your scarf to hide behind.

“OHHH, HAHAHA, OH NO! I'M- HE HE HE- I'M SO SORRY! BUT THAT SOUND! HAH!” He snorted, somehow, and his laughter turned to wheezing. Mortified, you buried your face in your hands, but soon giggles bubbled in your throat. The brash laughter was infectious and you were chuckling alongside Papyrus.

“WHAT WAS THAT NOISE?!” He asked between gasps.

“A burp!” You snorted, wiping tears that had collected upon your lashes.

“A BURP! HOW DELIGHTFUL! I CAN'T WAIT TO TELL SANS! I NEED TO KNOW EXACTLY HOW YOU DID THAT!” He rubbed his jaw; all the laughing made the bones of his mouth ache. It was good ache. A funny ache.

“How embarrassing.” you mumbled to yourself.

“EMBARRASSING?” Papyrus asked innocently, carrying away your plate and the half-empty serving dish.

“That’s not exactly polite to do on- uh, where I'm from. But- oh man- I'll explain how it works later.”

He wrapped his plate in foil as he watched you fidgeted on the dining chair.

“WHY IS IT NOT POLITE?” He held the plate with one hand, the other perched upon his hip.

“Because- uh.. It's- maybe..” You weren't even sure, it was just how you were brought up. You couldn't even recall if it was ever explained!

“I don't know!” You gasped, exasperated by simply not having an explanation. You didn't like _not knowing_ things.

“OH WELL. IT WAS LOUD, AND FUNNY, SO IT'S OKAY.” Turning on his heel, he bound into the kitchen, slamming the food into the fridge and ran back into the living room.

“I guess we both have things we don't have the answers to,” you giggled, and pushed yourself onto your feet. The skeleton nodded and took to the stairs, skipping several steps at a time with his long legs, before disappearing into his bedroom.

 

You looked down at the dried bandages. Crusted blood on the outside marked where you had been wounded, but you would try and play up the “molting” lie if asked. You hobbled across the room, dropping heavily onto the humongous sofa. The strain of limping, dragging dead-weight across the small room had left your breathless. You ran your fingers through your hair, worriedly pulling apart knots and tangles.

 

With a large box in his hands, Papyrus rejoined you upon the sofa.

“USUALLY, I CLEAN THE DISHES STRAIGHT AWAY, BUT SANS SAID THAT TODAY YOU HAD TO REST, SO I WILL JOIN YOU!” He sounded a little put off, bouncing a leg, and you hoped he wasn't going out of his way to keep you company. The cushion beside yours sank beneath his weight.

“Truth be told, Sans’ Friend, I'm a little anxious about leaving the pots in the sink.” He gripped the corners of the box and stared at the kitchen archway. “I'm not sure why, but everything feels a lot better when things are clean.” He let out a small chuckle.

You watched him, biting your lip. His low, hushed voice sounded as if he were spilling some spoken secret.

“Papyrus. You- you don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I don't want to get in your way.” You wrung your hands together. _You really were getting in the way._

And as if nothing had happened, he boomed once more, “BUT I WANT TO HELP CHEER YOU UP! SO, NEVER TO WORRY: THE DISHES CAN WAIT! OR BETTER YET, SANS CAN CLEAN THEN WHEN HE GETS HOME!”

He playfully nudged your restless arm with his elbow. “NOW THAT IS HOW YOU TELL A JOKE.”

 

Papyrus began unpacking the ragged cardboard box, placing a lipped tray upon your lap, and then his own, tipping the box to spill the contents across the plastic surface. Beads and buttons of various colours and sizes skidded, gathering into the rounded corners of your floral pattern tray, _tick_ ing and bouncing against one another as they fell. He poured several more, before scooping out the remainder onto his tray, which was decorated with racing cars and train. Without rustling the beads, he flopped across to the arm of the sofa and pressed a button upon the remote control. Suddenly, the TV flickered to life, its screen flashing to black several times, before the picture came into focus.

“AH! ‘STAMP COLLECTING WITH METTATON’, THIS IS A GOOD EPISODE! HAVE YOU SEEN THIS ONE?” He asked, digging around in the pockets of his shorts. Without looking up from the colourful assortment of accessories, you spoke.

“I don't have a TV.” you lied, and flinched when Papyrus gasped, scandalised.

“SO YOU'VE NEVER SEEN A METTATON SHOW?” You shook your head, running your fingers through the trough of beads, “ NOT EVEN A RADIO SHOW, OR A MUSICAL, OR A LIVE-ACTION DRAMA, OR- OR-”

“Nothing!” You grimaced. “OH! Wait! I think when I fe- first came to your house, I watched some Metatron show, and a news programme? I don't remember exactly, but there was certainly a scene of Metatron kissing his own reflection in a mirror.” You stared at the screen, trying to think back all those weeks ago. The memory was distant, fuzzy. It hurt to think about it too much.

“WAS IT “NEWSTIME WITH METTATON”? OH, YOU PROBABLY SAW HIS NEW SITCOM “A METTA-TONNE OF COMEDY”, BUT THAT HAD VERY POLARISED REVIEWS, SO IT'S BEING REPLACED WITH “A METTATON LOVE STORY”. HOW EXCITING!” His eyes shone as he spoke, teeth pulling into a huge grin.

“That sounds interesting.” You studied an oval shaped bead carved from jade. “So, what's this for?”

“OH, I NEARLY FORGOT! WE'RE GOING TO DO THE MOST RELAXING FUN THING EVER: JEWELRY MAKING!” He passed across a large, wound coil of elastic and pulled out some string of his own, very thin leather cord.

“I ENJOY CUSTOMISING THINGS, LIKE MAKING ACCESSORIES FOR FABULOUS OUTFITS, AND EVEN CUSTOMISING MY OWN CLOTHING! ONE CAN NEVER HAVE TOO MANY FASHIONABLE CLOTHES!” His nodded seriously, wrapping and measuring the string around his wrist, and snipping off the excess. You copied his movements, using your own tiny scissors buried beneath some beads.

“When I want to relax, I like sewing. Is that how you make clothes more personal?” You twisted one end into a tight knot, with a loose loop hanging from the other end.

Stars shone from Papyrus’ glittering eyes, and he gazed down at you in wonder.

“I'VE BEEN USING PENS! I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT SEWING THINGS!” His eyes searched your own as he pulled out an old tshirt.

“I WAS GOING TO SHOW YOU MY NEW SHIRT!” the white fabric draped as he held it aloft, the words “Best Buddy” emblazoned across the front from chopped up pieces of tape. “DO YOU THINK WE CAN SEW SOMETHING ONTO IT?” His voice held an excited lilt, lifting and squeaking as he spoke.

“Sure! I’d need a needle, maybe my sewing… kit…” You trailed off. Oh.

“Hey, I'm sorry to be a bother, but can I use your phone to send Sans a message, or maybe call him? I-” Before you could even explain why, a small black box was held out in front of your hands. Papyrus nodded quickly, dropping the phone into your palm and folding the tshirt into a neat square. You dropped your work-in-progress bracelet and clicked the home button on the skeleton’s phone.

A knot formed in your throat. How could anyone be so kind, giving without question, offering a gentle kindness that was unparalleled to anything you had experienced in a very long time. Willing tears not to fall, you swiped away the home screen picture of a dog sculpture made of snow, and unlocked the phone. The interface was similar to your borrowed phone, wherever that had gotten to, and it took only a few taps of the touch screen to bring up his contacts list.

“Thanks,” you choked out, “is this Sans’ number?” You pointed to one of the four contacts, which was labelled “The Bestest Brother.”

Papyrus only dragged his eyes away from the TV screen for a second, and nodded, never pausing with his precise movements of threading the beads.

You quickly tapped the screen, bringing the phone to your ear as a dial tone bleeped.

 

_Ring Ring_

 

_Ring Ring_

 

_Ring Ring_

 

_“hey paps! i know you said not to eat whilst i’m out, and i only meant to stop at grillby’s for a second, but the next thing i know-”_

 

“Sans! Hi!” You unconsciously smiled as he rambled, only to stop silent at the familiar voice on the other end of the line.

 

 _“oh, heya kitten! you got a list for me?”_ he  suddenly sounded grumpy. Maybe you should have sent a text message instead.

 

You laughed nervously. Was he mad with you? Your nerves were set on edge.

 

“Yeah, if.. ya’no, if it's... not too much trouble.” you ran your fingers over a smooth stone bead.

 

 _“don’t sweat it. what can i get’chya?”_ soft jazz music played in the background.

 

“Oh! Do you have a pen and paper, cause there are some weir-”

 

 _“nah,”_ Sans cut you off, _“i’ve got a pretty good memory. go ahead.”_

 

“R-right! Okay, so I'll need some antibiotics, anything with penicillin listed in the ingredients. You'll probably find a common one called amoxicillin, but anything ending with -floxacin should work. I think.. I guess being anything just in case, and I can check it out.” the stone bead warmed up as you rolled it across your sweaty palm.

 

 _“got it. anything else?”_ he asked curtly, and you could hear something dull and repetitive, akin to fingers drumming atop a wooden surface.

 

“Painkillers. I don't know what you'll find, but anything will help at this point.”

 

Sans voice softened, _“sure, what kinds should i keep an eyesocket out for?”_

 

“Paracetamol or ibuprofen won't touch it. Look for opiate based medicines, like codeine, or even morphine. The stronger, or more the milligrams, the better. They can be pills, like little tablets, or an injection, so maybe a syringe too?” Your voice broke at the thought, but the smarting pain burrowing to the bone would not stop.

 

It hurt.

 _It hurt so bad_.

 

 _“you okay there kid?”_ You were surprised that he sounded concerned.

 

“I will be.” You glanced across at Papyrus. He didn't act as if he were paying attention, and had already moved onto a long layered necklace of bottle green beads.

 

“Sorry, but could- can you also get my bag from the hotel? My clothes are in there, and some other things I'll need. Papyrus wants to do some sewing, so I'll need my compact kit. That’s everything.”  

 

There was silence for a moment, and you could only make out the tinny background noise. Something barked, and someone else yelled in approval.

 

_“i’ll see what I can do.”_

 

“I know it's a lot to ask, and I'm really sorry. You're already helping me so much and I don't want to get in the way. I can go myself if it-”

 

_Click._

 

“He hung up.” You heard yourself say, emotionless and drained.

 

You stared at the phone in your shaking hands. Papyrus was glancing at you from the corner of his eyesockets, watching your shoulders hunch in defeat. Without looking, he reached out, taking the phone from you and thrusting something else into your open palms.

“THAT'S FOR YOU.”

You blinked up at him with fresh tears in your eyes.

“SANS DOESN'T TELL ME EVERYTHING, AS IF HE IS SHELTERING ME FROM THE WORLD, BUT I'M NOT STUPID AND I CAN TELL WHEN SOMETHING IS WRONG.” He looked down somberly, “EVEN- EVEN IF I DON'T KNOW ALL THE DETAILS, I STILL DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU UPSET.”

Slowly you sat back, the cushion behind morphed, and it felt plushy and dense, as if stuffed with feathers.

You unfurled the long string.

“IF YOU KEEP TRYING, WHATEVER THE PROBLEM IS, I'M SURE EVERYTHING WILL WORK OUT OKAY IN THE END.”

It was a simple design; a chain of delicate, clear glass beads, with small tubes of dried macaroni spaced between each cluster, and in the very centre hung a metallic, blue, heart shaped charm.

 

The tray dropped from your lap. Beads, charms, plastic gems, coils of wire, silver clasps. Colourful dots rolled away, strewn across the floor. Papyrus murmured gently, softly rubbing your back as you clung to his chest.

 

It took an hour for you to finally stop crying.

 

 

Bonus: A picture of the gang!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have an adorable moment with Papyrus being a giant cutie-pie. I love writing him, though I hope it's not too out of character?
> 
> Just to clarify: despite the implications, I don't think he knows that Grace is Human. Weird coincidence that the charm matches their Soul? Probably unconscious intuition.  
> I don't think he'll ever know to be honest, given how he doesn't recognise Frisk as a Human when they first meet in Snowdin. Or maybe he just doesn't recognise child-shaped Humans?
> 
> That's something I'll have to figure out! :)
> 
> Regardless, Sans is being weird and Papyrus gives you a pasta necklace.  
> I NEEDED to write a scene with him making Reader some macaroni art, but the feels happened instead HAHA!  
> I also imagine he made the bead curtain that sits across the kitchen archway! :3c
> 
>  
> 
> Here's a picture of the main cast: Sans, Papyrus and Grace!  
> Well, this is my headcanon of Grace anyway :3 Their specific details like gender/hair/etc aren't actually described, so it's totally up to interpretation! :D
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway! Feel free to shout at me on my Tumblr!
> 
> http://athenanuu.tumblr.com


	24. Skull and Crossbones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and celebrate exactly 75,000 words (or just come and say hi:  
> [My Tumblr!](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com)

 

Excess magic clung to the corners of Sans eyesockets as he kicked through piles of garbage. He rubbed the crust away, cursing his lack of sleep. A foot caught upon the handle of a large backpack with a faded green print, and he picked it up. The other strap had torn away on one end, but the zips and external pouches were all working.

“humans are so wasteful.” Sans clicked his conjured tongue and slung the bag across a shoulder. Within the cacophony of waterfall white noise and gently dripping sounds, his phone bleated.

“hello?” Sans squat down as he answered, holding the phone to his skull with one hand and digging through trash with the other.

“Oh! Howdy, Sans!” The voice on the other end sounded tinny and a little distorted through the line, but still held an impressive orotund boom.

Sans paused, steeling himself.

“hey asgore, how can i help?” He pushed aside a broken lamp, avoiding the sharp protrusions of the smashed lightbulb. A large, worn tailors dummy sat in the path, stuffing strewn around, seams ripped and torn up the sides. _Perhaps Mad Dummy rejected that body in favour of a newer one? Maybe a lamp like his wife?_ Sans shoved away the thick yellow wadding, gingerly pushing aside aside a stack of Human fashion magazines.

“I am just waiting upon some bread baking in the oven, and thought that I would use the opportunity to catch up with you.” Asgore stated, “How have you settled in? Snowdin is a lovely town, is it not?”

“yeah, s’great. paps loves the snow, and we've got some pretty great neighbours. s’much more peaceful than the capital.” Sans twisted awkwardly, stuffing a half empty can of lighter fluid and one of the thicker fashion magazines into an open pocket of his bag. He cursed his phone’s digital-dimensional storage for crapping out last week: the weight of scavenging goods would mean several trips to unload at home.

“That is good! I still do not know from where Papyrus gathers his boundless energy. Ah, to be young again.” The King chuckled, voice thick with reminiscence. Sans hummed in agreement, flicking away soggy cigarette butts that had stuck to his bones. The wet tar and chemicals leached out, staining bleached white to a sickly yellow, and the pervasive smell of sickly-sweet burning clung to his hand.

The line was quiet for a second.

 

“I am also afraid to say that I have called with an ulterior motive.”

“‘guessed so.” Sans sighed and hoisted himself up. The pile before him had been picked clean, with only plastic bags and food waste left behind. Jogging, he moved quickly around the useless piles of junk, towards the drier mounds. He wished Asgore would allow the Waterfalls to flow freely, removing the dams to whisk away the rot and useless garbage.

“Have you given any thought to my offer?” Asgore sounded tense and Sans magic hummed angrily. _Of course he had._

“i think i’m pretty happy where i am. m’getting good money from sentry duty and odd jobs, and despite your, uhm, generous salary, i..” Sans crushed a glass bottle beneath his shoe.

“You seemed rather eager to take up the position before, if I might be so bold to say. What has changed?” Asgore didn't sound angry. Merely curious, with a touch of disappointment.

 

Sans couldn't muster up much of an excuse. “like i said before, people change.”

 

The King hummed, as if the vague words held all the answers.

 

“Or perhaps you have found someone that has recently taken up much of your time?” He retorted mischievously and Sans sputtered in response, nearly dropping his phone. Shaking hands clutched the plastic tighter.

“i, wha-” He stumbled, panic gripping the sides of his ribcage, “how?”

Asgore laughed heartily, booming and echoing through the speakers, “Oh Sans, my dear, do not act so surprised! It is a King’s duty to know all about his kingdom and its people.”

“but, how? i mean, no one's know- a-” Sans held back a growl. If the King knew he'd been harbouring a Human, then Undyne would already be on her way. His magic popped and cracked in the air, revving into action.

“Sans, do not worry. Young couples who find themselves within the throngs of love often become rather preoccupied, especially when they're trying to keep the romance a secret.” Asgore laughed again and sighed happily. “It reminds me of my younger days.”

His magic sputtered out.

“r-romance?” Sans panted, his free hand dropped to his side.

“Ah... This may sound a tad crude, and incredibly unprofessional, but there was a little accidental-eavesdropping involved. I may or may not have overheard a certain confession of love on my most recent rounds through Waterfall. Those Echo Flowers listen in at the most inopportune times, don't you agree?” He tittered.

“waterfall? echo flowers…? ah shit.” Sans couldn't help the words fall from his frowning mouth. He could clearly remember those weeks ago: the panic when Asgore nearly spotted them together in the tunnels, and the bobbing blue flowers repeating his words over, and over, and over.

“I shall pretend I didn't hear that, and then you can avoid the penance of the swear jar?” Asgore chuckled, and in the background a bell rang. “Oh, well I must be going now, but I'm glad we had chance to chat. These talks are always better held over a cup of tea, but thus our hectic lives march onwards.”

“y-yeah,” Sans found himself laughing with relief, wiping the sweat from his temple with his sleeve, “tell me about it. s’far too stressful lately.”

“Indeed. This Human seems to be evading our security, but perhaps.. they have perished somewhere undiscovered.” The King seemed to be speaking more to himself, like whispering a prayer aloud. Over the phone, a clatter of something metallic brought back Sans’ attention.

With a hoarse cough after the tense silence, Asgore spoke again, “Regardless of your current preoccupation, I do not begrudge your reluctance. The task is not an easy one, and we must cling to happiness where we can.”

“The offer stands indefinitely, and if you wish to take it up, then I am but a phone call away and my door is always open if you find yourself in the capital. I must go, but hopefully I will be able to meet the lucky Monster soon, eh?” He sounded lighter now, speaking with an easy air of interest.

“yeah.” Sans lied, “i’m sure they'd like that.” he added weakly.

“Take care now, goodbye!”

 

The phone hummed a dial tone.  


 

“ _FUCK_!”

 

Sans screamed, smashing his heel against an old computer monitor. His hands were balled into fists, magic seeping through the pores and joints between his bones. Frustration and irrational anger fused together, manifesting into jagged blue shapes in the air. The spiked, cyan coloured bones fizzed and crackled like arcing electricity, phasing in and out of existence as he tried to calm himself.

 _It's fine,_ he reminded himself, _no need to worry, s’just a… a.. misunderstanding. Yeah, of course no one knows you're committing a traitorous act by refusing to surrender a Human. Yeah, s’cool. The King thinks you're in love, and definitely not keeping a Human like a god-damned pet. No big deal._

“what the hell am i doing?” Sans spoke aloud, basking in the silence of the cavern. His words echoed back, growing quieter with each repetition.

 

He flinched as his phone rang again. Solid white teeth ground together as he checked the caller ID, and he sighed. **_Papyrus_ ** flashed on the screen several times as the mobile vibrated against his bones. After particularly stressful days, Sans always felt better when speaking to his brother. The one constant in his life; a familiar comfort. He definitely needed a nice, calming chat.

Or a drink.

A drink sounded good. Before his phone had chance to let out another ring, Sans stepped forward, magic propelling around his feet until he began crunching through snow. The door to Grillby’s swung open and he shoved himself into a stool at the bar. Scents of charred wood, citrus, and fresh food filled the air, and Monsters chatted happily as they ate and drank.

“hey paps! i know you said not to eat whilst i’m out, and i only meant to stop at grillby’s for a second, but the next thing i know-” He began rambling into the phone, grinning, and the beating of his Soul slowed.  
  
“Sans? Hi!” The voice on the other end of the line was certainly not his brothers. It was jarring, hearing you call his name, after expecting the excited, brash lilt of his brother. It felt like taking a sip of the wrong drink; the unexpected difference clashed in his mind. Despite the shock, he could hear the smile in your voice.

Grillby acknowledged Sans with a small nod, before jotting down something on the notepad in his flame-formed hands. Sans’ shoulders slumped and he drummed his fingers upon the bar.

  
“oh, heya kitten. you got a list for me?” he tried not to snap, but his words were curt. He had recovered, for the most part, and his magical stores were in prime condition, but he felt irritated at the idea of returning to the Pile of Opportunities. For some reason your nervous laughter set his teeth on edge, and he couldn't help but picture Asgore, or Undyne discovering your secret. _Hauling you away to the Throne Room. Another for the collection..._

You rattled off complex sounding chemical names, giving precise instructions, but Sans heard you shift around, with fabric rustling against the sofa and the gentle pained gasps. Your delicate, fragile Humanity was irksome.

He didn't mean to take his frustration out on you; the entire situation was hardly your fault, but his words were coming out all wrong, and he immediately regretted hanging up on you mid-sentence.

 

“shit.” Sans lowered his head onto the bar, sighing. The alcohol soaked wood felt sticky against his skull, but he didn't care. Something was placed gently besides his temple, the sound reverberating through the solid oak, and he slowly looked up.

Grillby, the fire elemental loomed over him, head tilted in question. The bright yellows and oranges of his magic shone against Sans’ bones, and he could feel the magically generated energy bouncing from the other Monster, like heat from a flame.

  
A tall glass of blue liquor was placed deftly by his side, and Sans downed the liquid in one long gulp.

Grillby popped and crackled, mouth opening and closing in a jagged line as he spoke in an ancient language. Sans nodded in response, glumly pulling the plate of fries closer.

 

“heh, yeah. you have no idea.”

  


~

  
  


The silence of the living room was interrupted as Papyrus’ phone chimed again. He would pick it up, stare at the screen for a second before stuffing it back between the sofa cushions. The process was repeated again, and again, and again. With each message you watched him fidget more in place, shuffling his tray of beads around as bony knee jiggled restlessly. His nervous tics began wobbling the entire rickety sofa, and it took effort to hold your own tray flush upon your lap. His movements were rattling his growing mound of handmade jewelry and beads, which wobbled and tilted as he fidgeted.

You were beginning to feel a nausea akin to motion sickness as he practically vibrated upon the spot.

“Papyrus?” You squinted at him, and as if broken from a spell, he stilled, turned away from the television and blinked several times.

“I'M SORRY, WHAT WERE YOU SAYING?” He asked, looking a little dismayed that he had become so forcefully preoccupied with his thoughts.

“I asked if everything is okay? You seem a bit, uh-” You did not wish to pry, but the poor skeleton looked downright skittish, nearly yelping as his phone let out another soft _ping_.

“OOH, NOT AGAIN!” He plucked the black rectangle from between the cushions and tapped at its screen. His eye sockets crinkled as he squinted, lights from his phone reflecting from sunbleached bone.

“Is somebody bothering you?” You questioned, setting down a half strung chain of beads. Your own work paled in comparison to the literal mounds of jewellery strewn around Papyrus, leaving him decorated in rainbows and gems. Several chains were slung across his shoulders, dozens wrapped around his neck and wrists, and the weight of the pile upon the sofa forced them to slide to the floor one-by-one. Each of his movements were accompanied by soft clicking and ticking. Something about the sound made your stomach turn.

“NOBODY CAN BOTHER THE GREAT PAPYRUS, FOR I HAVE BOUNTIFUL PATIENCE! IT IS NOTHING.” He began to lie, before sighing heavily. With the greatest care not to move your injured leg, you placed your crafting station upon the coffee table and scooted back to settle into the cushions. Somehow you felt a little exposed, open, without the ability to draw your knees up to your chin. _Old habits die hard_ , you thought.

“WELL, IF YOU MUST KNOW!” Papyrus groaned. Your brain was still trying to catch up with Sans’ moodswing. Perhaps it ran in the family? Though Papyrus’ words sounded much more sincere than his brother’s.

“I HAVE BEEN TRAINING WITH MR. DUMMY, WHICH IS GOING SPLENDIDLY, AND I FEEL I AM FINALLY READY TO OFFICIALLY JOIN THE ROYAL GUARD: NOT JUST A MEMBER OF THE EMERGENCY SENTRY CORPS. NOW, I HAVE FINALLY BUILT UP THE COURAGE TO ASK CAPTAIN UNDYNE, AND I PLAN TO DO IT… SOON. ISH. PERHAPS…”

“Okay? So, why is your phone blowing up?” You tilted your head, pretending to know who the Monsters were.

“ARGH!” He dropped his phone upon the floor, flinching away with his jaw hanging open.

You stared, wide-eyed, watching him.

He gasped, peering down at you. “I AM VERY CONFUSED, SANS’ FRIEND. THE PHONE IS NOT EXPLODING?” Once again, his words were genuine. He looked disappointed, before stars flashed in his eyes.

“NYEH- A TEST! A ROYAL GUARD MUST HAVE THE QUICKEST OF REFLEXES!”

“N-no! I-it’s a figure of speech!” You stuttered out, a little incredulous.

“AH! CLEVER WORDPLAY, I SEE!” He rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. “MR. DUMMY IS SAYING THAT HIS “EFFORTS WILL BE A WASTE” IF I DO NOT ACT UPON THEM. HE IS CALLING ME A QUITTER AND THAT I HAVE AN ULTIMATUM. MR. DUMMY IS REQUESTING THAT I ASK UNDYNE, OR HE WILL NO LONGER TRAIN ME. THEN HE WENT ON TO SAY TOUGH-LOVE IS FOR MY OWN GOOD, BUT I'M NOT ENTIRELY SURE WHAT THAT MEANS?”

“I don't know. Generally it means that things might seem unfair, but they think they're doing what's right.” You shrugged your shoulders, deciding that neutral answers were best when you weren't fully aware of the situation. The thought almost made you chuckle aloud: clearly you had no idea about any situation Underground. _Lost in more ways than one._

 

“But… if you don't mind me asking, why _haven't_ you gone to see the Captain, if you feel that you're ready?”

 

“BECAUSE.. WELL, I DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT? BESIDES SWEATY, AND RESTLESS EVERY TIME I THINK ABOUT IT! IT'S VERY UNCOMFORTABLE, SO I CAME UP WITH THE PERFECT SOLUTION: AVOID THINKING ABOUT IT!” He folded his arms across his chest, as if the very notion of nerves were unbecoming.

“That's just nervousness. It's only natural.” Your shoulders shrugged noncommittally.

“If you've worked really hard and you really want it, then you should go for it. What's the worst that could happen?” You picked at loose cotton thread on your shirt.

“She could say no?” The skeleton mumbled in a quiet voice.

“And then what?” You unravelled the thread, winding it tight around your finger.

He groaned, throwing his hands across his face dramatically, “AND THEN I'D BE HUMILIATED! I WOULDN'T GET ANY COOL ARMOUR, OR SECRET ADMIRERS! NO ONE WANTS TO BE FRIENDS WITH A L-”

“Maybe not.” You answered simply, cutting him off with the snap of the cotton string. “But then you'd pick yourself up, and resolve to work harder for next time.”

Curious eyes peeked out between his hands. He whined, shrill and mopey,

 

“BUT WHAT IF I'M-”

 

You cut him off once more. Maybe it was a little rude, but suddenly your head was pounding, like fists beating upon your skull from the inside.

“All those “what if”s won't give you the answers; you'll end up going in circles, worrying about the same thing without making progress.”

You rubbed at your temples with the tips of your fingers.

“You clearly went to, uh, “royal guard training” training with a goal in mind, try not to lose sight of that. It’s new, and a little daunting, but you'll never know what’ll happen if you don't try.”  


There was a tense silence, and you wondered if you should have stuck with another non-committal answer.  


“THAT- THAT MAKES SENSE.” He finally reappeared from behind his palms, setting them down in his lap. “OF COURSE IT IS AN EASY TASK FOR SOMEBODY OF MY CALIBER TO ENTER THE ROYAL GUARD, I JUST WANTED TO GIVE OTHERS A FAIR CHANCE, SO THEY ARE NOT OVERSHADOWED BY MY BRILLIANCE! NYEHEH!”

“Uh, of course. But don't let anybody force you into going if you really don't want to. Like I said, you've got to make these decisions when you're ready. If you decide not to, you could focus your efforts on something else? Like jewellry making!” You hooked a thumb under the chain strung around your neck, the glass beads twinkled as they swung into one another.

“You're very talented!” A broad smile pinched your cheeks as you glanced down at the shimmering heart shaped charm. You wondered if all these beads and charms were scavenged from the garbage dump.

“AH, THANK YOU. THE REPETITIVE ACTIONS ARE RATHER THERAPEUTIC, AND THE RESULTS ARE LOVELY, IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF.” A slight orange blush tinged his cheekbones. You let out a small laugh, and nodded.

 

“yeah, nice work paps.”

 

You both jumped. The majority of Papyrus’ jewellry slipped from the cushions, landing on the floor with a twinkling _thump_. Beads were sent scattering across the floor as Papyrus’ knee twitched in shock and knocked into the coffee table, sending the sharp wooden corner careening into your injured leg.  

A hoarse cry tore through you as a wound began to bleed anew. You sucked in a breath between your teeth as Papyrus fussed over you.

“I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!” He wailed, gently rubbing at your back.

With a forced smile, you waved him away, claiming the pain wasn't that bad before he scurried away to make some soothing tea. You doubled over, drawing your leg closer to clutch feebly at the bandages.

 

Sans stood in the doorway, watching you bite back tears. You couldn't read his expression.

“uh, sorry ‘bout that. hope i didn't scare you guys outta your skin.” He kicked his shoes off, stepping further into the room.

You pulled away a shaking hand that covered a wound. Your palm was sticky and red, and nausea rolled across you. _Ouch_.

“why don't we change your bandages? gotta keep ‘em clean, right?”

 

You looked up, wiping your hand messily across the fabric. As angry as you were at Sans for hanging up on you earlier, you wouldn't be able to put on fresh bandages with a single pair of hands: showering was difficult enough, and you didn't want Papyrus to know the extent of your “condition”. You nodded glumly.

“head on up to my room, i’ll be there in a minute.” without waiting for an answer, he stalked away, joining Papyrus in the kitchen.

You hobbled up the stairs, alone, with a death grip upon the creaking banister.

 

His room smelt like stale copper and old socks.

  


~

  


Mere minutes later, Sans’ door slammed shut, locking as it wobbled in the door frame. Sans shrugged a camo print backpack from his shoulders and dropped it at your feet as you perched upon the edge of his bed.

 

You sat hunched over your leg, massaging the knee and the skeleton towered over you, blocking out the yellow glow from the lightbulb. Without a word, he knelt, resting upon his boney heels and pulled your leg into a gentle stretch. His pointy fingers traced the criss-crossed fabric to find a loose end and with swift movement he unravelled the bandage.

You hissed as he prised away the fabric that was packed into the bleeding wounds.

“found this while i was out.” he shook a bottle labeled ‘antiseptic’, applying a liberal amount to some clean fabric to wipe down the oozing red that dribbled freely down your skin. It stained your skin a foul orange, leaving behind a pervasive, chemical residue. Sniffling, you fought back tears as the sharp stinging hit your injuries.  


“Thanks…” You sighed in relief once fresh gauze had been wound tightly around your leg. You rested back on the palms of your hands, panting, eyes drifting closed. Without warning, something yanked you forward, tugging around your neck and you gasped, scrabbling to sit upright. Sans gripped at the necklace that was laced around your throat.

The expression he wore sat uncomfortably casual, an easy grin wound too tight at the corners, eye sockets grimacing down at you.

“did you tell him?” he flicked the blue, heart shaped charm.

“Wah-? No!” You wheezed, exasperated, pulling the macaroni necklace from his grip.

“so that's just a coincidence?” He growled, and you crossed your arms heavily across your chest.

“It’s just a piece of plastic. It- it doesn't have to mean anything!” Anger bubbled underneath your skin like acid, “And what could I have possibly said: ‘Hey Papyrus, take a look at my Soul. Remember how you wanted to join the Royal Guard, ya’no, the force that trains Monsters to hunt down humans? Well surprise, I'm Human! Take me to jail!’” You snapped, arms flailing to articulate your confusion.

 

Sans’ arms dropped by his sides, hands brushing limply against his loose jacket. His fingers tightened into fists.

 

“i heard your li’l speech. you seem pretty insistent on him joining, for someone who hates the idea so much:” his voice grew high and squeaky, and it took you a second to realise he was imitating you _!_ “ _wow paps, you're so big and strong and talented! why don't you go join the royal guard and actively put yourself in the firing line when another dangerous human falls down?”_

Your heart skipped, the split-second absence bore down like a weight within your chest.

“Another?” your voice was hushed, the words suddenly knocked the anger knocked from your bones.

Sans hunched, shoving his hands into his pockets. He turned away and looked over his shoulder. “papyrus is all that i’ve got, and i’m going to protect him.”

You stared down at your hands, quietly contemplating the words.

“i wouldn't want to put him in da...” Your voice quivered, and you dared not speak the word, as if hearing it aloud again would make it true.

 

Dangerous.

 

"Am I..?” You gasped, barely a whisper. Your hands shook. You could still feel your fingernails splitting a desk in half; half-broken memories of glass and mirrors cracking beneath the impact of your fists. Dangerous people acted like that. Dangerous people broke things.

 

Dangerous people hurt others.

 

“no, but that's why i’m keepin’ an eyesocket on you. make sure you're okay.” He sighed.

You didn't want to hurt anyone. You squeezed your hands closed, and your overgrown nails left crescent shaped indents in your soft skin.

 

“you're not. but you have the potential to be. everyone does.” Sans finally spoke up, “virtues turn to vices when you're not paying attention.”

“What does that mean?” You couldn't look him in the eye. Was that happening to you, despite your promises to yourself, and Toriel.  For a moment, you wished you could reach deep within your chest to see that shimmering blue heart again, to see if the colour had remained royal and strong, but you recalled the unnatural hollow feeling left behind. A shiver brushed your spine.

“don’t worry. i’m just being a numbskull.” Sans sighed and sat heavily by your side. “you're not a bad kid. but no one is completely good. nor completely bad, i guess. people change, but you've gotta make sure there's a balance. like, don't go breaking other people's shit, but don't let people walk all over you in the pursuit of being “nice”. for example, earlier today i-”

He let out a small laugh before wiping a hand across his skull. The bones softly clicked together,

“i have no idea where i was going with that. s’been a long day.”

You sighed. “It’s hard to keep up sometimes.”

“m’sorry about, uh, ya-no,” He gestured vaguely.

“You mean about being short tempered and hanging up on me? Or insinuating I'm some kind of demon that's going to.. to hurt people if you're not around.” You huffed, feeling tender, emotionally and physically.

“yeah both. s’not fair of me to take shit out on you. i’ve had a lot on my plate with the move, finding new jobs, and now-”

 

“And now you have to take care of me, on top of everything else.” you finished for him. The chain around your neck felt cold upon your skin, warming as you softly ran your fingertips across the beads.

“it's not a big deal. you’re pretty low maintenance.” He shrugged, picking at the hems of his shorts.

“That's a lie and you know it.” You nudged his with you elbow. “Don't unpick that, or I'll have to fix it.” You added, nodding to the pile of thread that he meticulously wound around a flange.

“ah.. uhm. well okay, i’ll admit that you're not making it easy.” you cringed as Sans laughed, “but, someone's gotta do it.”

 

You smiled. It was a small, sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

 

“atta girl, don’t want you to be sad. you've gotta recover, and that won't happen if you're depressed.”

“I don't think it works like that for Humans.” Your brows knitted together.

“lucky.” Sans bent down, tugging his half open bag closer before rifling through the contents. He placed several items in your lap.

“this was all I could find from the hotel. the rest s’been scavenged.” He lied, “sorry.”

“Oh. It's okay.” You frowned, oblivious, and pulled your things closer. A compact mirror, a tube of mascara, your sewing kit, and much to your horror, a half empty box of tampons. A dark blush spread across the bridge of your nose.

“are you okay?” He sounded genuinely curious.

 

“Haha, yes of course!” you cackled, thoroughly embarrassed as you discreetly hid the box underneath a lumpy pillow. “Thank you. You keep going out of your way to help me. Don't know what I can do in return.” You hung your head, hoping the gesture appeared humble, instead of hiding your wickedly red face.

“don't worry; i’m putting it on your tab.” Sans winked down at you, grinning.

“What? Really? But I don't have any money.” You scrambled, staring at the skeleton’s twinkling eye-lights.

“if I had a dollar for every time you've said that…” He smiled, sighing wistfully.

“You'd probably have useless currency, don't you guys use gold?” You squinted at Sans, whose smile grew as you realised he was messing with you.

“ah, the penny drops!” His laughter is low, rumbling deep within his empty ribcage.

“Ugh, are you ever going to change?” You grumbled, hating that your own smile grew. You shoved his arm again.

“was that intentional?” He threw his head back and guffawed. The tense atmosphere relaxed, and you let your shoulders drop from being held high and tight.

 

“oh, i nearly forgot!” He dropped an armful of small card boxes in your lap. Some of the tiny labels were water damaged, ink smearing across the glossy white surface, but as you peered into several boxes, you realised that they contained medication. Most of the boxes even contained information leaflets. Curious, you pulled out a folded slip of paper.

 

“Wow. Now I'll be able to tell if you've got the right stuff instead of praying I don't overdose on Vitamin D tablets!” You smiled, eagerly reading one, “These things tell you about the different uses, dosages, shelf life and side effects. I'll have to dry a couple out and hope I can read the smudged ink, but these are very useful.”

“shelf life? side effects?” Sans cautiously held up a blister pack of pills. Upon one side, the medication’s name was printed across shining silver foil, sealing the caps of small bubbles of plastic. The clear side showed bright yellow and green tablets that rattled in the packaging.

“Yeah, like some medicine only has a certain period of time where in ingredients remain active. They don't last forever. And side effects are normally negative things, maybe like chemical reactions, they can cause anything from dry mouth, nausea, insomnia, uh, death: the common potential effects.”

 

Sans stared, jaw slack as he watched you read every single information booklet before slipping it back into it’s respective packet. You even scoured each snippet of writing upon labelled bottles and jars.

 

“and you're going to take those willingly?”

 

You nodded, setting aside the medication that you didn't need. “These things are rigorously tested before they're allowed on the market. I don't know much about the process, but some pills are too harmful, and they have to be redesigned to, well, not kill people that take them

” You stated, matter-of-factly. It seemed as if Sans had picked up anything remotely resembling a drug. There were tubes of interdental cleaning tablets, effervescent stomach remedies, generic anti-inflammatories, something complicated sounding to treat seizures, dozens of antibiotics, very strong painkillers for use after surgery, tablets to thin the blood, antihistamines, a sealed vial of clear liquid used as numbing anaesthetic for dental procedures, boxes and boxes of constipation and diarrhea relief, a tube of foot-fungal cream and one very large tub of moisturiser for dry skin conditions.

“humans are fucking crazy.” he snorted, and you couldn't help but laugh in agreement.

"We don't have healing magic like you guys! Wow, you got so much!” You gawped at the mound that had slowly taken over the bed, and occasionally Sans would laugh and produce another tube or box from his backpack.

“How did all of this fit into that small bag?” You shook your head, secretly mourning the loss of your own belongings from your treasured duffel bag. Hopefully a Monster was getting plenty of use out of it.

 

“once i realised that lots of stuff had those  “prescription labels” stuck on, it got easier. the unlabelled stuff was just buried around, and holy shit, you humans throw out so much stuff! i figured medicine might be like food, where it goes bad when it's opened.” Sans pointed to the packets of pills by your knees. “all of that is what i found _unopened_ ; left so much behind. ‘turns out that monsters basically find it all useless.”

“I’m sure some of it might have a use, like these are good for cleaning. Just... don't eat them.” You passed across the tube of denture cleaner tablets that smelt like peppermint and bleach,

“But yeah, we seem to have a problem with recycling, and taking care of the environment.” You rolled your eyes, stuck your hands into the pockets of your borrowed clothes, and your fingertips brushed against something cold and unexpected.

 

“Oh. This is for you.” You muttered, dropping it into his waiting palm.

“The only kind of thanks that I can give without repeating myself over and over.”

Sans studied the keyring, watching the string of powder blue beads dangle from a large metal ring. A pewter skull and crossbones hung from the longest chain, with small, wobbling googly-eyes glued into the painted black sockets. His giggles started small, a mere chuckle, the slowly devolved into unabashed roaring laughter with blue tears streaming down his cheekbones. His shoulders shook dramatically as he clutched his midsection.

“It doesn't look that bad!” You huffed, “Papyrus helped me make that keyring just for you.”

“oh my _stars_ ! look at those fucking eyes! is this what i look like to you? hahahah, holy shit. i don't even have any _keys_! where am i gunna put this?” Sans rumbled out between bites of laughter. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve before speaking more sincerely,

“hehe, thank you, it's adorable.”

Another, more subtle, blush bloomed across your cheeks. You snatched it back, before afixing it to one of the zipper pulls on his backpack.

“ah, clever.” Sans nodded as he studied your nimble movements.

 

With a groan your skeletal companion flopped backwards, letting himself bounce before sinking into the bed. He wriggled up the bed, allowing his feet to dangle freely over the edge. After shoving aside boxes and jars, you eased yourself onto your back, propping your leg upon the bedside table and resting your hands behind your head.

You felt a little better knowing that Sans was simply overwhelmed with the current situation, and that you were not the only root cause of his anger. You clutched at the plastic case of your sewing kit and smiled. _Everyone accidentally takes their problems out on someone else at some point or another,_ you mused, vowing to help Sans fix whatever problems you could. It was the least you could do.

 

A noise disturbed you from your deep thought; a gentle, repetitive wheeze. You turned to Sans, who lay with his shoulder nudged up against yours, head fallen towards you. His eye sockets were closed, mouth open in a soft O shape. You could make out the needle sharp points of his canines, jutting out from the curved profile of his teeth. It was one of the few times that you had looked, and really studied your  Monster guardian. He was much rounder, more amorphous than the pointed edges and sharp corners of a Human skeleton. His bones looked far too pale, so incredibly smooth, less porous and pitted than the bones you were accustomed to. You twisted onto your side, tucking your knees up. Against better judgement, you reached out and cupped a hand along his solid jawline. You brushed your thumb against his cheek, revelling in the smooth, almost silken texture of the bone. It was solid, warm and felt oddly malleable, as if a layer of invisible muscle lay beneath pliable bone. He snored a little louder, chest rising and falling with some inconceivable breath and you reluctantly pulled your hand away.

 

Taking the time to move slowly, you wormed closer to Sans’ warmth, before tucking both your bodies underneath the loose bedsheet.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been sitting in my "to publish" folder for days. I'm sorry! D:
> 
> Some resolutions, apologies, cute shit, some secret plot business happening in the background. 
> 
> I'm always up for ideas, prompts and cool stuff that you'd like to see in the story! :3
> 
> Also, come and celebrate the fact that I just hit exactly 75,000 words (or just come and say hi:  
> [My Tumblr!](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com)


	25. * The Ultimate Checklist of Recuperation and Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: contains a bit of (rather tame/ soft) smut at the end of the chapter, after the break designated by ~~~ lines.
> 
> Come and say hello on [My Tumblr!](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com)

After you had tripped over your own feet for the third time that evening, even Papyrus relented, almost begging you to stay put.

“AS MUCH AS IT PAINS ME TO SAY, I SIMPLY CANNOT ALLOW YOU TO CONTINUE MOVING AROUND. YOU’VE BEEN FALLING OVER AS MUCH AS A, A- uh, A FALLING-OVER THING! A FALLING-OVER THING, WITHOUT ARMS, OR A SENSE OF BALANCE. IT'S RIDICULOUS!” He groaned, bending at the waist to berate you from your crumpled position upon the floor. His hands gripped underneath your arms as he scooped you up and deftly placed you upon the sofa.

“NOW, I HAVE BEEN GIVEN STRICT ORDERS TO HELP YOU RELAX SO THAT YOU MAY RECOVER, AND I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR OWN HEALTH!” He boomed, and his words would have been intimidating if he weren't doting upon you like a mother hen. A stuffy blanket was draped across your lap, and a soft pillow was tucked behind your head. Papyrus unloaded another armful of scatter cushions upon you, and nodded, seemingly satisfied with his work. He studied you for a moment, fingers tucked beneath his chin as if he were contemplating his magnum opus, watching you fidget beneath the mountain of cushions.

Clicking his fingers, which must have needed a great effort given his thickly padded gloves, he hollered, “TEA! TEA WILL CHECK THE FINAL BOX THAT IS UPON THE LIST OF ULTIMATE RELAXATION, RECUPERATION AND RECOVERY!” He turned on his heel, letting out a pleased hum, and marched towards the kitchen.

“He’s taking ‘the list’ pretty seriously, huh?” You thought aloud before turning to Sans, “Where did he get it from?”

Sans looked on from the other end of the sofa, hand tucked underneath his chin, smiling in barely contained amusement.

“oh, it’s from way back when paps was a babybones. he’d worry when either of us got hurt, so i made up a list! but, uh, don’t be surprised if he offers you a foot rub, or chilled soup. however, if he starts asking you about your favourite enchilada filling, tell him you don't want to taco ’bout it.”

You rolled your eyes, choosing to ignore his antics, offering an undignified huff in response. Beneath your breath you muttered, “I bet you only wrote that on the list as an excuse to make stupid jokes and get foot rubs...”

You fought with the blanket, unbunching it from your knees and pulling it up to your waist with a content sigh. Sans shuffled closer, but you were too distracted moving away the mound of pillows from around you to notice the weight shifting. The shorter skeleton plucked your leg from the ground, grasping gently around your heel, and placed it upon an overly-stuffed pillow on the coffee table. You dropped your head back into the down-filled pillow, mouth wide open as you let out another sigh. It was a relief, feeling yourself deflate as pressure was alleviated from your aching leg.

“those painkillers seem to be working a treat.” he commented as he watched you droop and sway ever so slightly, before dropping a fat stack of DVDs into your lap. You nodded, feeling drowsy and a little spaced out, but thankfully the pain had dulled from smarting spasms to a soft ache that was easily forgotten with the slightest of distractions. Sans, ever observant, picked up on the fact, and was happy to offer bountiful distractions. You had drawn the line at crosswords and anagram puzzles. The words were a jumble, seemingly wriggling across the page; it was too much for you to concentrate on for more than a few minutes.

“pick what you want to watch.” He motioned to the cases in your arms.

You decided not to comment on how close he was sitting, with his shoulder touching yours, despite the copious amount of room on the couch. During your latest spat of being confined to the house, you had grown much closer, not just mentally, but also physically. Touches that seemed to linger for a few seconds longer, sitting together just a little too close. Sans had taken to grazing his hand across your skin whenever you were in reach, holding your hand, testing the weight, absentmindedly rubbing the hard tips of his fingers across your flesh. His presence was never too far away, and the close contact was oddly comforting.

You leant into him, showing each case as you read the titles.

 

“Oh god, are they _all_ Mettaton movies?” You groaned, and in the corner of your eye Sans grin sharpened into an evil smirk. He was hunched close enough that you could make out the gleam of his canines, offset slightly but deathly pointed.

“if i have to suffer, then I'm bringing you down with me.” He shrugged, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Ugh, why don't you just kill me now and put me out of my misery?” Your head lolled forward in defeat. “Okay, we’ve got: “The Mettaton, The Witch, and The Infinite Wardrobe”, uh “A Very Mettaton Christmas: 12”, “Mettaton’s Spy Adventures: The Pre-Prequel”?”

You shot Sans a deadly glare, eyes narrowed with suspicion, mouth downturned into a deep frown.

“Now I don’t want to seem ungrateful...” You had broached the topic of your accommodation carefully in the week, and the shorter skeleton brother shot you down quickly.  Papyrus nearly cried as you repeated your gratitude over and over, previous grievances quickly forgotten, and he invited you to sleep on the couch so he could play nurse for a while. He never said it in so many words, but his constant preening, offering beverages, and fluffing of pillows gave him away. It was an endearing, comforting fuss, and the thought made you smile You glanced down at the DVDs and glowered.

“But who in the fresh hell is this Mettaton guy?” You hissed as Papyrus ducked into the kitchen. “Why- Just… I am lost for words. I am literally speechless.”

Sans gave a derisive snort at your choice of phrasing, which prompted you to delve off into a lengthy debate about the unparalleled catastrophe that was the series of movies, “A Very Mettaton Christmas”, 1 through 12.

Never, ever again did you want to see the rectangular robot splayed out in the snow, his lithe, wheeled leg creating an uneven snow angel as he writhed around.

“You know very well that Papyrus made me watch all these _again_ , only yesterday in fact, so don't act as if tonight’s roster is a coincidence.”

Sans chuckled, a deep and slow laugh from his chest.

“why don't you tell him that you don't like the movies? he only put them all on because _you_ mentioned that you’d never seen’em before!” He shrugged playfully.

“I don't know, the thought of upsetting him… it's- it’s like kicking a puppy or something. It's practically written into the laws of the universe to not extinguish his enthusiasm. It isn't done.”

 

Sans nodded thoughtfully, barely maintaining his contemplative facade. He filed away a mental note, something to write down later: the strong medication made your tongue much looser than usual, and oddly poetic. He’d been keeping a close eye on you, but he was relieved when no side effects manifested. You were in much less pain and much happier.

“basically you don't want to piss on his parade?”

You laughed at the statement, “That’s one way to put it! What else do you have?”

Sans plucked a worn DVD case from the pile, turning it to read the blurb.

“you sure you don’t want to watch ‘mettaton’s sensual guide to dancing’? says here that he “beautifully covers the basic steps to samba, the waltz, and ballet, in a thoroughly erotic and deeply enticing display of movement, legs, and music”. heh, holy shit.”

You balked, having already seen enough of the robot’s thrusting pelvic exercises and long, stretching legs in “Mettaton and The Missing Shoe: A Cinderella Story”. The fairytale would forever be ruined for you. You weren't even sure how a rectangle _had_ a pelvis.

“What? Ballet isn’t erotic! And, not to mention, that's not even a movie!” You huffed, digging through the pile. “What I am supposed to do, watch as Papyrus noodles around, mimicking Mettaton? Or should I shuffle along, pretending to do the Waltz until I fall over again?”

“don’t worry, i’ll catch you.” Sans winked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Was that supposed to be smooth? I basically set that up for you. Get better material bone-boy.” You chuckled, dropping a DVD case onto his legs.

“speaking of smooth material, what does this feel like to you?” He asked, hand still in pocket as he offered up a corner of his unzipped jacket.

With a curious expression upon your face, you turned towards him, tentatively running your fingers along the jacket’s lining. It was soft, so very soft, and had been squashed down to a state almost like velvet, with the odd clump of thick white fluff interspersed in the fuzz. It was warm, absorbing the natural heat radiating for Sans’ ribcage, even through his thick white turtleneck shirt. For a brief second, you wondered how warm he could keep you as the nights outside grew colder.

The pastel blue fabric on the outside was smooth and dense beneath your fingertips. You rubbed the fabric between your fingers, brows knitted as you thought.

“Uhm, fleece and shearling? Maybe fake fur, it’s too, uh, matted to tell?” You quirked your head up. Without hesitation he withdrew a hand from his pocket and rubbed the fabric between his own boney fingertips, right next to where your fingers were pinching across the surface.

“weird…” He mused, eyes staring directly into yours, gaze unwavering, “feels like boyfriend material to me.”

You withdrew, cupping your hand across your mouth as you snorted.

“That was so cheesy!” You dug your elbow into his ribs as you both giggled.

“i dunno, i thought it was pretty gouda!” He flashed a smile.

“SANS, DON'T BE SILLY. BOYFRIEND ISN'T EVEN A TYPE OF FABRIC.” Papyrus called as he entered the dining room, voice nasal and high, but held an impressively voluminous timbre. “IT IS, OF COURSE, MADE OF JACKET MATERIAL. I SHOULD KNOW, I AM A BUDDING FASHION DESIGNER AFTER ALL.”

His proud grin grew wider as he spotted the DVD case in Sans’ other hand.

“OH! THAT IS A GOOD MOVIE! I PARTICULARLY LIKE THE PART ABOUT THE WALTZ, THOUGH THE STORY ISN'T VERY INTERESTING.”

“s’because it’s not a film, paps, it's a guide to dancing.” Sans grinned, holding aloft the DVD case for his brother to inspect.

“AH, THAT WOULD EXPLAIN A FEW THINGS: MAINLY THE LACK OF PLOT, CHARACTERS, SCRIPT, PROPS AND SETS. AT LEAST THE DANCE NUMBERS AND MUSIC ARE GOOD!” He beamed with a flash of teeth, ever the optimist.

 

His lanky legs carried him across the room in only a couple of strides, before he placed a tray filled with steaming mugs upon the coffee table. He set down a large bowl of fresh popcorn, and you tried to scoot your leg away, yet Papyrus _somehow_ clicked his tongue.

“PLEASE, DON'T MOVE! DON'T MOVE AT ALL, NOT EVEN AN INCH! SANS, STOP MAKING THEM LAUGH WITH YOUR PROBABLY CRUDE HUMOUR, YOU'RE MAKING THEM WIGGLE, LIKE JELLY! IT IS AN UNPRODUCTIVE WRIGGLING, AND I FULLY BLAME YOU!” He squawked, jokingly wagging a finger at his brother, who had faux-guilt written all over his bony face.

“Maybe we can watch that one later? But first,” You dug around the pile, pulling out battered VHS cassette case, “why don't we watch ‘The Littlest Mermaid’! I love this one!”

Papyrus squealed as he plucked the case from your grasp with the utmost care, vibrating with enthusiasm as he darted around the room to set up the VHS player. The thick black cassette creaked as he slammed it in, buttons groaning under the pressure of his mighty pawing.

 

The eager skeleton Monster dimmed the lights before dropping onto the floor like a tonne of bricks. He shuffled around onto his front, laying on the floor between the sofa and the screen, legs kicked up in the air and his head resting in his arms. He looked at ease, swinging his feet about as he tried to find a comfortable position. After much scuttling and huffing, he settled on his side, his back to you, propping his head up with a hand. Without even looking, he reached back, plucking his mug of steaming milk from the coffee table and placed it by his side.

“hmm,” Sans quirked his browbone as he studied you, “never took you for a tisney fan. you seem far too old for stuff like that.”

You tried your best to act appalled, clutching a hand to your chest, gasping dramatically,

“How very dare you! Walt Tisney animations are the very basis of my childhood; enjoyed by young and old alike!” You whispered as the introductory credits began.

“is that so?” Sans whispered back, cryptic and acting unconvinced. You nodded with greater enthusiasm, hair falling haphazardly across your face.

Sans peered down at you in the darkness, the lights from the TV dancing shades of sapphire, emerald and amethyst across his bones. For a moment you were still, drawn into his gaze, and all you could think was how opalescent he looked: a dazzle of rainbow hues upon a stark white base.

You were surprised when he dipped down, face not far from yours, and delicate fingers tucked the stray hairs behind your ears. Yet again, his touch stayed, thumb rubbing across your cheek, hand shaking, hesitant and fearful that you’d pull away. All you could do was stare up at him, eyes wide and glimmering with gemstones, mouth open ever so slightly as your breathing hitched.

He flushed at the sound and the intimacy of the moment, suddenly remembering himself and turned away quickly. The skeleton settled into the cushions, hoping the bright blue opening credits would disguise the embarrassing blush.

You tore your eyes away, hands clasped in your lap as you watched the movie.

 

Every scene, each piece of dialogue, the notes of every song, all built up a thick layer of nostalgia that pinched and pulled at the space in your chest. Something akin to pain grew in your Soul. It wasn't quite the splintering agony of an injury, but a deep, sorrowful pang that made you want to reach up to the unobtainable sky and claw your way out of the mountain.

Tears prickled in your eyes but you bit them back, unconsciously gripping under the blanket for Sans’ hand, seeking support.

Papyrus quietly muttered along with the lines, voicing each character, growing louder as he hummed and sung along to every song. You smiled as Sans clutched your hand tighter.

 

Everyone was enraptured in the climactic final battle: the sea witch, with her stolen weapon, transformed into a towering, malevolent being of seething anger and torment. The prince was dashed upon the rocks, and the mermaid, distraught, full of anguish, fearless and vengeful, pierced the heart of the wrathful sea goddess. The witch died alone, shrieking, flailing, collapsing in on herself as her powers struggled to keep themselves stable.

The mermaid princess prevailed, once love-stricken and frail, now donned in shining armour of sea-foam and shells, bearing arms forged in the deadly heat of underwater volcanoes: tipped with sharks teeth and rusted knives. Without thought, she bore the stolen weapon, reclaiming its magic and taking up the mantle, ruling the sea kingdom.

She reigned, avenging her father's death without mercy, no delicate smiles of sadness nor compassion. Not yet free of suffering, her people cried, for they were trapped within their ever shrinking borders as Humans invaded the sea.

Graceful, she rose from the waters, dressed in jewels and armour and gold, weaving magical glamour that gave her legs. She reclaimed her lost prince and together they raised the land, dethroning the ancient queen that had segregated all creatures, letting them fade into myths whilst the humans prospered from their pearls and fish. The Mermaid Queen seated herself upon the throne of the Land, squaring the crown of her father upon her head, ruling both earth and sea as she saw fit. The Kingdoms were united once more. No one questioned her fair rule, her just proclamations, and acts of law that saw everyone lived peacefully. She quashed the threats that loomed upon the horizon, but occasionally she would turn to the oceans, gazing fondly at the lapping waves and endless waters.

Her King died of old age, but she still found a way to live happily ever after, wearing battle hardened armour and a glittering crown. Eventually she returned to her home under the waves, at peace that her daughter would continue her elegant, iron clad reign. The Mermaid Empress died, an ancient being of wisdom and love, scattering seafoam across the ashes of her husband.

 

There were a few moments of silence as the credits rolled, everyone basking in the glow of a satisfying ending. You sighed, contented, and let your head rest against Sans’ shoulder. He tensed, hard bones poking up beneath the soft material of his jacket, but let himself relax as you settled.

Without a word, an awestruck Papyrus replaced the tape with another, and let the room be filled by the lights of the screen once more.

You nuzzled into Sans’ jacket, inhaling the cool musky scent, barely paying attention to the Mettaton movie as your eyelids drooped. Sans peeled his hand away from yours, draping his long arm around your shoulders and drawing you in tighter.

The shallow romance of the Monster’s movie was boring in comparison, unparalleled against the timeless love of The Littlest Mermaid. The scene continued, a montage of trying on outfits, dressing up for a date. You were struggling to stay awake, resting cozily in the warmth of the Skeleton by your side.

A surprising sensation brought your senses back from the cusp of sleep with a jolt.

~~~

Neither of you said a word as Sans caressed the exposed skin of your neck and collarbone. It started small, testing, a shaking hand running softly against you. He traced the bones and soft flesh, touching oh so gently wherever he could reach, dragging his fingers from your shoulder and up to your jaw. You shivered, tilting your head giving him more room, and you felt a rumble emanating from Sans’ chest. The quiet growl and movements stirred an unexpected warmth in the pit of your stomach, and you gasped, gripping your hand upon Sans’ thick femur in surprise. His shorts has ridden up somewhat, and your hand clasped against bone, solid, warm and glossy. You couldn't even fit your hand around it if you tried, so you squeezed just above his knee cap and let your hand rest there.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eyes: he was staring straight ahead, grinning causally, though small drops of sweat beaded upon his forehead. You sat stock still incase his touches ceased. He let out a long, hard breath, eyes flitting to Papyrus, who was too involved in the film to notice. Nestling closer, you melted into the gentle stroking, breathing a little deeper as he explored further. The warmth bubbled into a simmering heat as his hand dipped beneath the collar of your loose tshirt, fingertips ghosting across the tops of your breasts. You bit your lower lip, heart beating so loud that you were sure it could be heard. Arousal tingled between your legs, even with such soft petting, and it sparked into something that made you want more. You felt a little selfconscious, reacting so strongly to slow touches and his gentle panting, but you stopped caring as he moved again, groped at your chest.

Cobwebs cleared from your mind, and a pleasureable, dull ache began to throb. After months of nothing but pain, suffering and sadness, it took effort to not drown in the sudden pleasure, effort to not grind yourself down on the pillow tucked beneath your thighs.

You responded in kind, running your hand slowly up his thigh. Delicate and cautious, your fingertips ran patterns across his leg, climbing higher until you brushed against his inner thigh, meeting the bunched up fabric of his shorts. Teasing, you ran your hand back down to his knee again, taking note of the grip clenching upon your shoulder, with his hand tucked under your shirt. The pointed tips of his fingers dug into your skin, running pale red lines across your shoulder blade, a finger sweeping across your collarbone, denting into the skin.

Another gasp left you as he dragged harshly down your neck. The tingling made you feel slick with want, a pleasant craving that urged you quietly onwards. You ran your nails up his femur, climbing higher and higher, stopping abruptly at the hemline of his shorts. If prompted, you could score lines into the smooth white surface, and you smirked as he let out another low growl, pushing closer against your body.

 

As your fingers ran beneath the hem of his shorts, inches away from his pelvis, he finally pulled away. You immediately missed the warmth when he ducked forward, whispering to his brother. Sans’ deep, gravelly voice left you quaking and damp.

“grace needs to rest. i’ll let ‘em sleep in my bed so you can keep watching your movie.”

Papyrus nodded, not looking away as Mettaton danced with his date shimmying across the screen, and mumbled a quiet “Goodnight.”

You made eye contact, and Sans was no longer smirking. His gaze was filled with desire that rekindled a longing ache in your chest. He stood, holding out a hand, and you happily accepted. The blanket, along with several pillows, were dropped upon the sofa and you felt your bad leg nearly give way as you put your weight on it. A stong arm looped around your waist, and guided you up the stairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fans self* Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me? 
> 
> Heheh, this started off as simple fluff; a nice family gathering, bonding over a movie, domestic shit, but... but then it got dirty, whoops! It's about time Sans made a move!
> 
> The next chapter should, in theory, be a much smuttier continuation of this bit, but it will be completely skipable so no one misses out on any plot or action :)
> 
> Come and say hi on [My Tumblr!](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com)


	26. *The Sun, The Stars, and The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter features heavy sexual content.  
> TL;DR in the end notes, but if you still want to read the plot in the middle, plot begins at the bolded word "painful" and ends at "determination" !
> 
> Come and say Hello over on [My Tumblr!](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com)

The door slammed shut as you were ushered into the bedroom. Sans peeled away his jacket, revealing stark white arms and bony, jointed fingers, his eyes watching carefully as your back hugged the wall.

“just so i’m not misreadin’ signals or letting myself get mixed up,” He threw the hoodie upon a pile of laundry, “i wanna make sure that we’re on the same page.”

The only light streaming in was beneath the door, glowing yellow from the hallway, and the hazy blur of light through the windows from a simulated moon. Your heart hammered in your chest as you waited for him to continue. An acidic feeling of anticipation threatened to rise into your throat as he crossed the gap between you.

“you wanna fuck, right?” He asked seriously, without a hint of derision.

Embarrassed by the blunt question, your temperature rose considerably, cheeks blushing to a deep red. You squeaked out a tiny “Yes”, and Sans grinned, sliding closer.

 

Despite the two of you alternating nights between his room and the sofa, you'd only ever fallen asleep together once or twice, generally too exhausted or pained to do anything but collapse into a fitful sleep. Now that you were both alone, with Sans looming over you, the atmosphere was much more intimate than those comforting cuddles.

You stared up, a little apprehensive, the pinpricks of his eyes glowing bright in the darkness.

“you okay there, kitten?” He rumbled, and heat pooled between your legs at the sound of his low voice.

You nodded, finding speech too difficult to manage in the moment. His feet were on either side of yours, your chest pressing against his ribcage as you clung to his shirt. Gentle fingertips ran up and down your sides, pushing away your jacket to access the soft heat of your skin. Sans felt his magic begging to be let out, to take form as you looked up at him, eyes half lidded with lust. He leant closer and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead.

You giggled at the feeling of the mock-kiss, solid teeth pressing against your flesh. Malleable bones curl into a smirk as he made his was down the side of your face, your insides nearly melting as air brushed against the shell of your ear. With a sharp intake of breath, you clung tighter, fingers hooking into the gaps between his ribs. If you were feeling rational, you would have stopped to wonder if the action would hurt him, but your arousal only grew as he let out a pleased sigh. There was another rumble, starting low in his chest, and as he kissed his way down your jawline you couldn't help the small whimper that escaped. Your mouth opened in a gentle pant as something warm and slippery flicked against your neck. Curious hands slipped beneath the hem of your loose shirt, trailing and touching anywhere they could reach.

“you're so soft.” Sans half mumbled to himself, voice muffled by the skin of your neck. His fingers traced the bumps and divots of your spine, tickling softly down the centre of your back. Your back was forced to arch as his other hand clasped upon your lower spine, fingers pressing harder against the flesh. He licked a long line up your neck and planted an ever-so-tender kiss against your lips. As the Monster pulled away, you saw his cheekbones flush into a pastel blue glow.

 

“I- I don't really know what I’m doing here.” You admitted quietly, unaware you could be so reasonable when a hand was tracing the underside of your breasts.

Sans looked hungry, twitching as if he was holding himself back from devouring you. A glowing blue tongue peaked out as he licked across his teeth. You wanted to taste him.

“don't worry, i’ll guide you,” He gave a small chuckle, “you'd be surprised by how much human porn falls down here. i’ve, uh, researched.” He admitted sheepishly.

You snorted at the image of Sans discovering the scantily clad women on magazine pages and blurry pictures of VHS tapes, but all thoughts tumbled away as a cold palm caressed the curve of your breast. You breathing hitched as a thumb tested around your hardening nipple.

“But I want to make you feel good too.”

Sans watched you tremble at the slightest touch, and ground his pelvis against your body as he greedily groped your breasts, pinching at your nipples.

You dipped your hand under his shirt, running your fingertips up his sternum. With the most careful of touches, you hooked a finger around a rib, tracing along the insides until you hit the notches of his spine. Sans struggled to bite back a pleased growl, which bottomed out into a reverberating pressure within his ribcage.

He was so close to you, revelling in the scent of your growing arousal: he had been smelling it for days, watching the way you squirmed beneath his touch, the way you'd grow flustered at compliments and caresses. He waited, restraining his urges and hoping for you to make the first move. He didn't want to mess it up, but by the stars above, you looked like a goddess melting beneath his hands.

 

You felt yourself grow damp as he kissed across your throbbing pulse, drinking in the gentle praises and whispers of worship, but suddenly something **painful** passed through the thick haze of your lust.

 

_Too close._

 

_Too many touches. Too much._

 

_Go._

 

**_Run!_ **

 

You jolted, hands pressing against his front, pushing him away. Your arms shook as you clutched your head, willing the parasitic urges to stop. Sans jumped back immediately, holding his hands up. He let out a long breath, looking distressed.

“fuck, i- i’m sorry.” He clasped a hand across his eyes, shoulders slumped, “i didn't mean to push you into anything. ah shit, i’m such an idiot.”

“No, I want this.” You reassured in a trembling voice, “I want you.”

His bones shook at your admission, Soul humming in delight.

It took surprising strength to fight past the block in your throat and the sickly sweet call within your Soul, “I just- ever since I fell down here I haven't- I've never been in control. I don't know how to handle a single aspect of anything down here! I want this- I want you: I need something good in my life, but I don't want to lose control of… this.” You gestured at him with a vague wave of your hand.

“Well, I do want to submit to some things. If you know what I mean?” You continued timidly, “ _I_ want to be in charge of when I'm not in control. I think? Ugh, I’ve fucked this up.”

 

Sans dropped his arms by his sides, face blank as he casually strolled to the bed, sitting heavily upon the mattress. He patted the soft sheets, and you wearily joined him. The call subsided, and you anxiously played with the sleeves of your hoodie.

You hoped upon the magic of the artificial moonlight that you had not ruined your friendship or your chance at happiness. But you knew beyond everything, you would do what it took to rebuild any shattered progress.

“no matter the situation, communication is key.” He spoke matter-of-factly, smiling in a way that soothed the rapid beating of your heart. “even if it feels stupid, you gotta talk this shit out. which, admittedly, you've not been doing a lot of.” He nodded to your injured leg, and you squirmed in embarrassment.

“I do owe you an explanation, for everything, but it's difficult finding the right words. Sometimes there isn't much to say, because I don't remember what happened.” You trailed off, voice growing quiet.

It was warm and stuffy in the small room, and you pulled your jacket off, folding it as you listened to Sans. A feeling akin to moth’s wings fluttered against your insides.

“so, you want this?” He mimicked you, motioning to the slight space between your bodies.

You nodded undoubtedly, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

“right, okay.” He looked down at the floor, trying formulate the right thing to say. He spoke softly to the darkness of the room, “look, i know this shit hasn't been easy. everything is so different down here compared to the surface, so it'll take a lot of getting used to on your part.” You huffed in agreement. You were becoming slightly more acquainted to life Underground, but the thought of what lay beyond the waterfalls made you shiver.

“i mean, i’ve seen the way you usually act, and then,” he clicked his fingers, “snap. you change into something that _isn’t you_. the way you freak out and fight, or run away; the situation is clearly affecting you. however, it’s understandable: you don't know what's happening, you don't know where to go or what to do. i don't blame you for going a little crazy.” he chuckled, “i want to understand, i want to help, but you need to talk to me so we can work through this.”

Tears prickled in your eyes as Sans spoke of feelings that you could never seem to formulate into coherent sentences. You gave a small nod.

“you say sometimes you’re not in control? that's gotta be scary.”

“Terrifying.” You croaked, “It’s like seeing things in third person, watching your own body move and act on its own accord, with no way to get back in. I can't remember what's happened when I- when I come back. I just remember that _something_ happened, like catching glimpses of events through a foggy mirror. It's like dealing with the consequences of a dream.”

Sans was quiet for a moment. You felt vulnerable, as if your Soul was bared and defenseless. You could feel it, quiet yet powerful, thrumming beneath your heart.

“that explains quite a bit.” He pondered aloud, thoughtfully twiddling his thumbs. “and you're not sure what causes it?”

“I wish.” You shook your head, hair tumbling across your cheeks as you let out a derisive laugh, “If I had any idea, I'd try and stop it. It- it's horrible the way I'm watching myself do these things, but I can't stop it. What if I end up hurting somebody? You gasped.

The skeleton let out a hum, twisting himself to sit further back on the bed, and turned. He rested his back against the headboard, sitting with his legs splayed out towards you.

“we’ll figure it out.” His teeth turned up into a wide smile, and you ducked your head.

“i think i understand it: you're afraid of relinquishing what little control you have left over your life, so what's happening now is scary.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his skull, shirt bunching as he moved.

Your lower lip trembled, Soul almost exposed and raw. You agreed with a bow of your head.

“grace,” The way Sans spoke your name made you look up, heart thumping at the gentle, unabashed plea, “you gotta trust me.”

A fat tear dribbled down your cheek, leaving a line that shimmered silver in the faux-moon’s light.

“you'll always be the one in control of that! even if you want to give it up sometimes, let someone else be in charge of making you feel good. your trust would be- i dunno, like a gift, a treasure not meant to be toyed with. it's precious, and can be taken back at anytime. you just have to trust in me.”

“i’ll never hurt you. i will never let you get hurt. i swear upon the magic in my dust, and the very soul beneath my bones.” Sans took a deep breath, “i promise.”

 

It went mostly unnoticed, but your subconscious felt the slight wavering crackle of magic in the air. It hovered close by, surrounding you. Another tear slipped past your dewy eyelashes.

You stared, gaze unwavering at the Monster, baring everything that you could never put into words. He met your eyes and your Soul flared with a light so bright that he almost had to glance away. You didn't notice the shift in his expression, too intent on processing your feelings, too busy tumbling into the darkness of his eyes.

 

_Would it be right to just give up what little you have left? Such delicate, fractured shards; the missing pieces left behind as you tumbled_

 

_down_

 

_down_

 

_down_

 

_into the darkness of the Underground._

 

You looked down at the bones shifting beneath the fabric of his shirt as Sans tensed, breathing heavily. For a second, you were sure you saw a light, a dense, white flare that in turn set your Soul aflame.

 

You knew then what you wanted to do.

 

_Remain strong._

 

_Do not crumble beneath the weight of the rocks above you._

_Do not stumble down the path alone._

 

_Believe in the unwavering strength that lies dormant beneath your bosom._

 

_Remember,_

 

_Remember what was left behind._

 

_Remember your duty, remember your strength._

 

_Remember the white horns of the bloody stag, prancing through the thicket; magic and glory in its wake._

 

_Stand tall, unbent and unbroken by the trials that lay before you. Recall the lost Souls, shrouded in ink and static-_

 

You blinked away the hazy film across your eyes, and Sans frowned, bones lined with concern. He had been studying you the entire time, watching your eyes flicker back to life from their unfocused, murky glare. He had seen it happen before, the way you'd slip, slip, slip away into a comatose state, some strange power growing brighter behind your eyes, before you’d snap and change into something _different_.

Sans could see you, see your Soul lose its balance, falling away into a muted, hazy colour that seemed polluted, tainted. It lasted no longer than a second, but he watched you pull yourself back into the light through strength and fierce power.

 

You looked to the light, the smudged aura surrounding Sans that could only be seen from the corner of your eye.

 

_You knew what to do._

 

You would grasp whatever you could, wrangle any charge possible against the uncertain or the unexpected. You would be in control, if just for a little while, and you would hold onto it, fight tooth and claw to keep it _your own_.

You would be able to walk whatever path that wound out in front of you, with the help of another. You didn't have to bear the burden alone anymore. You didn't have to be the only one keeping your moral compass aligned true and strong. You didn't have to worry about vices creeping across your back if there was someone around to watch it.

Sans watched as emotions flickered across your face: Sadness.   Worry.

 

Contemplation that built into courage.

 

Unwavering bravery that made your Soul flicker bright and clear.

 

Noble Integrity bathing you in a deep blue light.

 

 **Determination** that set a soft smile upon your face.

 

Finally, you looked away, carefully crawling towards him across the bed. You were glad for the painkillers that dulled the ache of your healing injuries. You were weak, but you would grow stronger.

 

Sans quirked his brow bone with a puzzled smile upon his face as you crawled closer, slowly straddling your legs around his own and sitting upon his lap. You sat, placing all of your weight on him and down on your knees, and wrapped your arms tightly around his back. You gripped hard, fingers catching against the wood of the headboard.

“I trust you, I promise.” You whispered into his neck, and despite himself, the soft puffs of air made him shiver. His arms hung loosely, draping around your hips, hands splayed upon the small of your back.

“no matter what happens, you're the one in control of this. if you say no, that means no.” He said, voice turning husky as you ground yourself onto his lap.

His hands gripped hard against your clothed hips, “if you say more, then i’ll do what i can to make you happy-” He trailed off with a small gasp.

You didn't even care about the pointed bones jabbing into the underside of your thighs, or the grip hard enough to leave bruises on your flesh. You drew back, pressing your weight down to feel a familiar hardness press between your leg. You groaned, pulling away and resting your hands on his solid shoulders.

“fuck,” Sans hissed, closing his eyes and dropping his skull back against the headboard with a _clunk!_ His fingers flexed as you wriggled, shifting so you could press against him.  _Too many clothes in the way_ , your thoughts tumbled together as you shamelessly ground down. You paid no mind when your hair tousled, clinging to your skin as your body seemed to overheat.

A satisfied gasp lifted from your lips when the seam of your shorts rode up against your dampness.

“can i touch you?” he whispered, fluttering his eyes open.

“Please.” You hummed and immediately he dove back down to your neck, trying his best not to nick your skin as he nibbled at your collarbone.

You whined at the soft licks of his tongue upon you, teeth scraping every so gently at the juncture of your neck. Sans basked in how _real_ you felt, your pulse hammering against his bones as he slowly bit down.

“More.” You urged quietly, tugging his shirt up. He fidgeted, discarding it into a dark corner of the room. Marvelling at the wide span of his ribcage with bones protruding thick and dense, you experimentally swept your fingers along the underside of his floating ribs. He moaned, hips bucking, pressing closer against you. His hands scrambled across your waist, testing the malleable skin, grasping the hem of your own shirt. You nodded, cheeks flushed as you exposed yourself further, tossing the fabric to the ground.

 

“fuck, you're gorgeous.” He said, voice rasping with need. Your hands caressed his sternum, slipping down the gap of his abdomen and onto the sides of his pelvis. You looked down, teasing at the elasticated hem of his shorts, and noticed a blue glow against the hollow of his bones.

He chuckled knowingly, “don't worry, we’re pretty compatible. just don't ask how, because you know the answer.”

“Magic?” you quirked your head to the side, giving him more access to your body.

He gave you a soft nip in response, loving how you melted like snow beneath his touch.

“Please!” You mewled, rubbing your slickness against his crotch. Even through the layers of fabric you could feel the thickness and hard ridges.

“m’not sure what you mean,’ He teased, scraping his pointed canines down your chest, tongue lapping lazily across the tops of your breasts. He hunched closer, “you’ve got to tell me what you want.”

His breath ghosted across your nipples and you arched into the sensation.

“Shit- I want you to bite me, I- I want you to fuck me!” You cried, running your nails along the dips in the bone, pulling the fabric down further and further.

Sans happily obliged, teeth pressing hard against the skin of your neck, deeper and deeper until it split beneath the predatory points. Tiny spots of blood welled in the wake of his bones scraping against you, fingers scratching your hips, mouth upon the chunky bone of your shoulder. You whined as the line between pleasure and pain stretched thinner and thinner, but you knew that if you said so, he would stop. You were certai, and you trusted him, and your Soul flared bright as he bucked his hips, drawing up his knees to give more leverage.

Finally, your mouths met, both wet and eager, teeth clicking together as you moved closer. His toothy kiss pressed against your soft lips, tasting the stickiness and he absentmindedly let out a pleased hum.  
  
Your tongue slipped against the backs of his teeth and his eyes closed, shoulders sagging as he relaxed. His own tongue glowed, dripping and eager, testing the feeling against your own. Your tastebuds felt rough against the smoothness of his magic, the pure energy tingling and fizzing upon contact. Arousal spiked within you and shot straight between your legs, the warmth below your stomach bubbled and expanded. Sans responded to every small noise you made, encouraging the wet noises in the quiet of the bedroom. He wanted you, all you had to offer, all at once. You held back from moaning into his mouth but the hand of the back of your neck gripped tighter.  
  
“don’t keep it in. i want to hear.” he warned and licked the cupid’s bow of your top lip.  
  
”how can i help you make that noise again?” Sans groaned between wet kisses and you panted against him. His teeth bit down and pulled your lower lip, making you whimper and rub down on his bones. Lust clouded your eyes as your tongue probed your kiss-swollen lips and your fingers slipped in between the gaps of his pelvis. Your fingertips brushed against the insides of solid, porous inlet and the skeleton groaned, pushing against your hand.  
  
“stars above, you look so delicious right now.”

you whined a little louder at his praises, shorts riding up as your clit rubbed against his covered cock, with smooth bones warming against on your inner thighs. You pulled him closer by the ribs, bringing his mouth back to yours. You silenced him with smacking lips, tongue brushing against anything you could reach. You kissed your way across his jaw, lapping against the untouched gaps between the vertebrae of his neck.  
  
“grace!” Sans tilted his skull and ran his fingers into your hair. He squeezed close to the scalp and tugged. His other hand danced its way from your waist, sliding up your side and his pointed fingertips traced across the lines of your collarbone, then confidently down to the swell of your chest.

 

Knowing what you craved, you gently guided the hand between your legs, and despite the plush fabric in the way, you keened at the touch. At first the caresses were gentle and curious, firm skin tested in squeezes and pushing the damp material against your slit. It felt glorious, you were soft and pliant against his touch and you let out an unabashed moan as his thumb ran across your swollen clit. Your thighs felt slick as a result and you rubbed them against his hand, dampening the bone in search of any stimulation. He pushed his legs further apart and his cock pressed harder against the source of your arousal.  
  
“Oh please, Sans!” you bit your lip to silence yourself and the Monster growled in warning, the vibrations humming in your chest at the close contact. You couldn't help but rub yourself against him. Your head lolled into his shoulder as he pressed again and you thrust into him, rubbing all your sensitive spots against the ridges.  
  
“that’s it, kitten, i bet that feels as good as it looks.” he stopped for a second, pulling down his shorts and flicking them away, then gripped the tight fabric of your waistband. The hand-me down shorts were torn straight down the seams as he pulled, but you didn't care. For some reason the display of strength, by tearing multiple layers of dense fabric as if they were paper, made you groan with thick arousal. It makes your breathing hitch, knowing how dangerous this Monster could be if he wished. He tossed the ripped pants away from the bed, at stared down at the gleam of your sweating skin, the soft dimples and dips of your flesh. He licked his teeth as he watched you rut, leaving slick, clear juices upon him.  
  
“you look so beautiful.” His cheekbones dusted blue, one eye socket empty as the other started blazing blue.  
  
“oh, the things i’m going to do to you…” He bared his sharp teeth at you, removing his hand from between your legs with a sticky tug. The bulge rubbed against your mound as he finally pressed your naked hips together and caused you both to gasp. Teasing, he pulled away.  
  
You whined at the absence, yet happily fell deeper into a lust induced fog. Slick slowly dribbled down your thighs as he cupped your breasts and lowered his face. He opened his mouth, tongue unfurling once more. You arched your back, head dizzy with emotions as he bit hard, lapping away any rivulets and pinpricks of blood.

The muscles in your legs twitched as he slurped and swirled and laved upon your erect nipples, planting kisses over every single inch of surrounding skin. Your clit throbbed, demanding touch, and you resisted the urge to pushing down further. His tongue flicked against your hard nipples, swirling around the sensitive bumps.

  
  
You both stared into each other's eyes, panting, restless and hopelessly desperate. He cupped your warm cheek, then ran a finger across your mouth, pushing past lips to touch at your tongue. It was fascinating how your internal structure was so similar, he thought as he felt your teeth, and the moist and warm cavern of your mouth made him whine, the muscle pushing back against his fingers.  
  
  
Sans’ grin turned slack jawed, eyes glazed as your tongue poked out and licked across the tips of his fingers. You smirked, smouldering him with your gaze when you took the hand from your jawline and slowly suckled upon his fingers. Swirling your tongue along the rather sharp tips, you sighed happily, tasting the talc-y earthiness of the individual bones. Taking them deep, massaging the knuckles in the heat of your mouth. Maintaining direct eye contact with Sans, who nearly drooled as his eye-lights flit from your mouth to your eyes, you ran the very tip of your tongue against the ridges and released his fingers with a soft, wet _pop!_  
  
His brow bone furrowed, expression almost angry, and a small stab of fear tore through your passion. His hand pulled away and you feared you had taken things too far until he lunged, biting and licking his way up your neck, already wet fingers prodding at your entrance between your legs. The grooves of his bones ran across your bare clit and electricity bolted through your blood. A single finger slowly, _oh so slowly_ , slipped into your entrance and you groaned, pushing yourself down upon the digit. He curled the finger, pressing against the spongy tissue of your insides and pumped in and out, leaving you panting and drooling all the same. It felt so good to have something inside of you, but at the same time it wasnt enough.  
  
Sans quickly removed his hand and his tongue twirled around the sopping bones, licking them clean. Deliberate slowness to frustrate the quaking need within you, the fire in your gut churned at the sight. He mimicked you, somehow popping the fingers from his mouth and a smirk graced his teeth.  
  
“you're just as delicious as i imagined.” He spoke and slurped the remnants of your tangy juices from his teeth. If you were stood, your legs would have given way at those words. Sans cockily rested back against the wall, planting his feet firmly upon the sheets.

 

“Can I…?” You glanced down onto the slight blue glow between your legs, devouring in the sight of the thick blue cock twitching against your lips. It was definitely a familiar shape, precum beading from his slit, though much thicker and his length was ridged. He twitched again, his magic touching softly against you.

 

Sans panted, gripping both hands under your ass and tugging you up onto your knees. You reached down, aligning him with your lower lips. You smirked as you looked up, swiping the head of his cock against your slick juice, spreading around the mixture of your combined arousal.

The barely-held restraint in Sans snapped at the display, and he slammed you down by the meat of your hips. He slipped into you easily, your walls felt tight as they stretched to accommodate the girth of his magic. You squealed, giving yourself no reprieve, resting your forehead against Sans’ as you worked your way up and down his length.

 

“so fucking beautiful.” Sans cooed, his large hands clutching your hips, flesh puckering beneath the pointed bones of his fingers.

You rode him, breathless and dizzy at the fullness. Your muscles burned, knees aching as you moved. His hips rose to meet you, and the soft slap of skin against bone rang in the darkness.

“you wanna know how long i’ve been aching for this?” He asked roughly, dipping his mouth down to the parts of your neck drawn taut by bone. Sharp teeth bore down against your collarbone, and you felt a visceral weight tightening inside. You clenched and you pressed down heavily, slamming yourself onto his cock.

“i’ve been watching you for days, watching that needy look in your eyes grow stronger every time i _innocently_ touched you.”

You hissed through your teeth as a slippery tongue lapped the slight pools of blood upon your shoulder.

 

“it's been so difficult holding back, watching you in those tight shorts that show off your ass,” He growled into your skin, thrusting up hard, “do you have any idea how often i wanted to just pin you down and fuck you across the table whenever your soft hands touched me?”

Everywhere that he touched, grabbed, groped left bruises, as if his fingers were covered in sticky inks of yellows and pinks.

You keened, rubbing the span of your hands inside his ribs, clutching at his spine. It was so thick that your hand only just fit around the circumference. The knobbles and seams ground into the palm of your hand and you stroked up and down.

“i’ve touched myself- fucked myself- to the thought of your warm mouth wrapped around my cock. every time i saw your nipples through your shirt when the house grew cold, every time i could smell your pussy grow damp when i growled at you. i've barely been able to hold back, but listening to you moan in your sleep drove me crazy, and i've fucked myself to the thought of you whimpering and gasping beneath me."

Your internal walls clenched as you gasped, the quaking peak growing closer, transforming into a white-hot need that you chased after; slamming yourself down, again and again.

"stars, you look delicious just grinding yourself on my hard dick. i bet you'd love for me to pin you to the bed and fuck you until you can't do anything but moan my name."

“Sans!” You whined, dropping your head to gnaw at his clavicle. Solid bone pressed back against your teeth as you bit down and Sans snarled, fucking you harder and faster. A hand reluctantly left your hip, moving down between your bodies to probe at your mound. He rolled your clit between his fingers, drawing it around in circles, pressing and flicking softly at the nub. Acid in your veins, your muscles tensed, thighs quivering as you let yourself be bounced upon his lap.

“you want it rough, kitten?” He murmured into your ear, pausing to nibble at the thin cartilage, “‘cause I'm gunna fuck you so hard that you'll have pretty purple bruises all over your soft skin, and each time you see them you'll remember how you cried my name, drooling and fucking yourself senseless on my cock.”

His hips snapped up to meet yours, wet squelches and whimpering as you licked the rough bones on his neck. Gentle fingers worked at your clit, rubbing around the hot dampness from your lips. You could feel each ridge of his magic pressing against the most sensitive areas of your inner walls.

 

“starlight doesn't compare to how beautiful you look right now.”

 

You froze, Sans continually writhing and pumping beneath your thighs, and the dizziness spiralled away into bliss as your orgasm hit you. It coursed through every nerve in your body, tensing your muscles and Sans drank up the way you sang his name, a repetitive prayer beneath the moon. The stars beyond the Surface, the Sun, and the real, pearly moon would never be as perfect as the flashing lights of your eyes, or the sheen of salty sweat upon your skin.

He held you tight, riding you through your climax, purring into the crook of your neck. Watching you come undone upon his lap made him release almost instantly, finally giving into the pressure that was bending, bending, bending, until it snapped. He bucked, toes curling into the sheet as he came, climax tearing through his magic. The air around you both grew heavy, audibly popping and snapping as oozing blue magic pumped into your cunt. The Monster clamped his teeth down onto your shoulder, teeth shredding the flesh and fat, and the feeling sent you over the precipice of another orgasm. The second peak was just as high, just as intense as the first, and you were sent tumbling down into a pulsing, heavenly haze.

 

You both slumped, holding onto each other as you fought to breathe. Deep, long breaths pulled air into your lungs, and you felt Sans bones grow slippery with sweat beneath your hands. Sans held you carefully around your waist, kissing and licking at the cuts and nicks left in his wake.

Your sex pulsed, throbbing and hot as you pulled up. Strong arms helped you slide onto your side, your back and legs aching from the effort. Something tingled and fizzed as it trickled between your thighs. A little delirious, Sans tapped your arm to draw you from the wonderful, electric fog, and passed across the remnants of your shorts. It took a little work to mop up the combined mess from your thighs as it clung messily to your labia. You moaned as you brushed over your puffy, overly sensitive areas. You grasped a clean rag of fabric, wiping your damp forehead.

 

Sans shuffled down the bed, breathing heavily, and curled onto his side to watch you. Your arms were shaky as you raised the clean scrap of material, patting away the beads of sweat that clung to his skull. In turn, he swiped away the damp tendrils of hair that stuck to your cheeks. You both smiled, tangling your limbs together in a soft embrace.

“Stars above.” you sighed, bathing within the glow of your comedown. Sans looked down, checking the fresh scrapes and bruises across your shoulders and chest. He felt a little guilty, and his smile drooped.

“Hey, I wanted it,” You cupped his jaw, pulling his face to meet your eyes, “I asked you to do it, and I wanted it one hundred percent. I don't think you would have done it if you didn't want to.”

“i’ll heal with food.” He nodded, pacified, and finally admited that he liked the way you whined whenever he bit you or gripped a little too hard.

His magic jumped when he had time to collect his thoughts:  _you_ wanted _him_. He wouldn't have trusted his eyes, brushing it off as a dream, if it were not for the tender touches of your thumb along his cheekbone, or your warm body curled tightly near his. Suddenly, you reached a hand down, carefully pawing at the fading wounds along you calf. The dressings and bandages were sodden with sweat, but there was only a pinprick of red against white. The Monsters could not heal you fully, but the infusion of their food was helping to spead up the natural process of your flesh knitting back together. You sighed, letting your body grow accustomed to the tender ache between your thighs and the stinging marks across your neck.

 

Sans gripped his hands around yours, teeth planting mock-kisses against your knuckles.

 

“Stay with me.” You whispered.

 

“i promise.” Sans replied, mouth never leaving your skin. Your energy was spent and you collapsed further under the strain of raw emotions and sore muscles.

 

Your Monster purred more praises as you closed your eyes, and slept.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Falls over* Here, enjoy my very first venture into writing smut. 
> 
> This was intended to be PURELY sexual, but surprise surprise, plot happened.
> 
> TL;DR:
> 
> Grace and Sans go upstairs, and he specifically want to make sure they're on the same page: that they both want sex.
> 
> They grow closer, but in the middle of it, Grace panics and pushes Sans away. She states that she has had no control over her life since she fell Underground, and she is worried that she will lose what little control she has left if they decide to continue/enter a relationship.
> 
> Sans talks with her, and after an explanation that she does not remember what happens after she changes into something 'different', Sans states that it must be scary, but that she can trust him.
> 
> He promises to never hurt her, and he will treasure whatever control her gives her, and she can take it back at any time.
> 
> She realises that she does not have to bear the burden alone, but she begins to slip into the urges of her Soul:
> 
> It says: "Remain strong.
> 
> Do not crumble beneath the weight of the rocks above you.
> 
> Do not stumble down the path alone.
> 
> Believe in the unwavering strength that lies dormant beneath your bosom.
> 
> Remember,
> 
> Remember what was left behind.
> 
> Remember your duty, remember your strength.
> 
> Remember the white horns of the bloody stag, prancing through the thicket; magic and glory in its wake.
> 
> Stand tall, unbent and unbroken by the trials that lay before you. Recall the lost Souls, shrouded in ink and static-" 
> 
> But she is drawn out of the haze as she sees a slight glow around Sans' chest; his soul.
> 
> She puts her trust fully in Sans, knowing that he will support her and help her no matter what happens.
> 
> Strengthened in Grace's resolve, they continue where they left off. Afterwards Grace asks Sans to stay with her, and he promises he will. They falling asleep, exhausted.
> 
>  
> 
> Hooray! Come and say Hi, over on [My Tumblr!](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com)


	27. Bonus: Mettaton's Guide To Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mettaton, The Underground’s biggest Star and idol extraordinaire, stars in his latest how-to video series: Mettaton’s Sensual Guide To Dancing.
> 
> World-class entertainer and romantic heart-throb, Mettaton beautifully covers the basic steps to Samba, the Waltz, and Ballet, in a thoroughly erotic and deeply enticing display of movement, legs, and music.”

 

Mettaton needed this newest show to go _just_ . _as. planned._

He was meticulous with his organisational skills, digitally compartmentalising and rearranging information in his memory storage systems. Despite this, some situations were beyond his control.

However, everything was going _just wonderfully_. His slender wheel rolled smoothly against the floor as he entered the dance hall. He gave an excited squeak, screen flashing up a smiling face as he surveyed the layout and equipment.

The microphones and cameras were all in working order, _not exploding into a thousand pieces mid-recording._ There was time between each dance number to plug his new album, _without interruptions from unappreciative employees._ The sets were beautiful; ballet barres sturdily constructed and at a perfect height, floor to ceiling mirrors that covered the entire wall, _also not exploding into a thousand pieces mid-recording._ Large, dazzling spotlights to illuminate the action and capture his good side, _which, to be perfectly honest, was every single angle._

“Ah yes, this will do wonderfully.” He spoke aloud to the crew; a rag tag team of shuffling Monsters who performed together adequately. Two of the Monsters, a soft-spoken Monster named Shyren, and a brash Pyrope were coordinating where to hold the boom mic, so it wouldn't show on screen.

His other employee had proven himself trustworthy with the camera, despite his copious amounts of sighing, and smoking on set. The Cat Monster was a touch too sarcastic and dismissive of Mettaton’s fantastic ideas, which often caused friction between the pair, but the young Monster had spunk that Mettaton could appreciate.

Mettaton rolled up to his cameraman, whom was aptly named Ginger, waving as he approached.

“Good Morning! I trust we all ready to go?”

Ginger’s ears flattened back, eyes growing wide as he sputtered on the cig between his lips.

“Uhm...”

Mettatin sighed impatiently, “Look, I know that you are star-struck every time we meet, but you've been working under me for months now. Trust me, a fan left utterly wordless by my mere presence never gets tiresome, but we have a schedule to keep!” He tapped at his monitor, which displayed the time in a lower corner.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just.. uh-” Ginger’s tail flickered around anxiously, “Iceelia, she’s been taken to Snowdin General Hospital.” His yellow eyes flit to the other crew members, who were oblivious to the situation, but heartbroken when he had told them the news.

Mettaton gasped, “Snowdin General? What happened?”

“I dunno the details, man. Snowdrake was telling me last night, she- she just fell down.” Ginger’s fur stood on end.

“Oh my, that poor family.” Mettaton’s frame slumped a little, and for once, he wasn't thinking about himself. “Remind me to send them a fruit basket and my condolences.”

“Dude, I’m just the camera guy.” Ginger shrugged, motioning to the thick black box under his arm.

“And now you’re my assistant- oh, oh no.” Realisation dawned upon the robotic Monster. “If Iceelia isn't here, I don't have a dance partner! We can’t film!” He groaned. Shyren, having heard Mettaton’s distress, swam through the air and spoke in a timid voice.

“But we’ve- I mean _you’ve_ been planning this for weeks. What will we do?” She hovered in front of Mettaton’s screen, frowning.

“I guess we’ll have to cancel. We could, I'm not sure, perhaps repurpose the set for a music video?” He sighed dramatically.

“Or you could get another dance partner?” Pyrope called as he adjusted the stand for the camera.

“But Iceelia and I have been practicing the moves for quite a while; I don't have time to train someone else. I could always dance with my reflection, I suppose?” He held a hand ponderously to his frame.

There was a moment of quiet, filled only by the humming of the lights and the whirring of Mettaton’s gears. Suddenly, everyone turned to look up at Ginger, who froze under the watch of so many eyes. The tip of his tail grew a little puffy and he hissed out,

“Oh no! No! I refuse!”

“But darling, you've been there for every practise! Surely you know the steps after watching for so long?”

“I do, but that's not the point!” He rebutted, gripping the cigarette in his paw and tapping away the ash.

“But you're the perfect replacement.” Shyren agreed, nodding with her whole body.

Mettaton rolled closer, effectively trapping Ginger against a wall. The robot ran a hand seductively up Ginger’s chest.

“You know, this is your dream opportunity: to perform, to act alongside your favourite idol.” He all but purred as he stroked Ginger’s soft fur.

The Cat Monster stuttered, clinging to the camera under his arm. Shyren tittered, floating away to join Pyrope at the equipment controls.

  


 

The lights of the studio were far too bright, and so warm that the communal box of glazed donuts were beginning to melt. The temperature inside the studio would have been pleasant if it was located within Snowdin, but Ginger cursed the fact that he worked so close to the Core.

“Why am I doing this?” The frazzled cat questioned, his voice low and venomous, but loud enough to be caught by the microphone taped to Mettaton’s shiny chest. The robot let out a tinny giggle in response, clutching his hand tighter around Ginger’s waist as they danced, and then dropped him into a low dip.

“You said you wanted to be an actor, now act as if my wit and dancing charms are wooing you into a hapless puddle of a man.” Mettaton cooed as he bent his frame, draping Ginger over his arm.

Ginger gave a half-hearted hissed in return, teeth bared and ears back as he grumbled.

Their spat continued, a back and forth of harsh words and directing their partner on their next lines, all in between Mettaton dictating steps aloud for the audience.

The music changed, it's orchestral tempo rising, and their feet- and wheels- moved quicker. Ginger tried to wrestle the lead, tugging his employer along and pushing his backwards as he danced. Mettaton’s screen blinked red in frustration before he remembered the cameras were watching, and he composed himself. He waited for his cue, glancing over to Shyren, who nodded and curled her fin into an awkward ‘thumbs up’.

 

The lasting notes of the waltz died down, and Mettaton unceremoniously dropped his dance partner to the floor, turning to the camera with a dramatic flare. He briefly wondered if the Pyrope’s emphatic bouncing would interfere with the recording, but he brushed it aside, reasoning that _anything_ could be fixed in post.

“There we have it, darlings, dears and beauties! I hope you all thoroughly enjoyed the Waltz portion of this How To guide! I'm sure you've all mastered the basic steps, and with any luck your partner will be less catty than mine.” He let out another forced giggle, ignoring Ginger seething protests.

“The 12 track CD used for every dance in this series is now available for sale! If you call the number of the screen right now,” He paused, motioning for Shyren to add the number in post production, “it will cost only two easy payments of 15G, and another 5G for it to be hand-delivered to you!”

“Who’s doing delivery?” Ginger muttered, quirking a fuzzy brow as he smoothed down his fur, “I thought we were posting them in the mail?”

“Darling don't be silly, it's _you_ , of course! Now, go get changed.” He shooed Ginger away to the changing room, which was merely a heavy curtain draped over a pair of unused microphone stands.

 

“ _What_ _is_ _this thing!?_ ” He shrieked, voice muffled by the thick fabric.

“That ‘thing’ is a tailored leotard, Darling! See, I even cut a hole in the back of Iceelia’s costume for your tail. Aren't I considerate?” He mused pretentiously, squeezing a tutu and a sweatband around his own rectangular frame.

“Ah, perfect.” He chimed, stroking the electronic sensors in his hands down the tulle skirt. “Come along, we've got work to do!”

Ginger threw back the curtain, padding across the room with a defeated slump. The pastel blue, stretchy cotton smothered his fur a little, but fit perfectly. His tail swished and swatted the air angrily as he approached the mirrors just off screen.

The robot let out a shrill squeal, “You look perfect! I bet you like it, don't you!”

Ginger sighed, looking ashamed, “Ya’no, I actually do.”

“Now now, there is nothing wrong that, and there's nothing overly feminine about Ballet! Do you know the amount of power needed to lift a partner, or throw yourself across the room? Or the dedication it takes to perfectly hone your techniques! It's a sport, and nothing short of beautiful!” Mettaton wagged a finger.

Ginger’s maw pulled into a frown, “I know _that._ I just like how form fitting it is.” He admitted, and Mettaton’s screen threw up a winking face.

“Did you catch that, Darlings?” He called to Shyren and Pyrope.

“We’re rolling!” They replied, and Ginger bristled.

Mettaton let out an airy, metallic laugh, and wheeled away from the ballet barre to face the camera.

“Hello again, and welcome to the final portion of this home video, where I will show you the basic steps to Ballet!” He hit a button on his monitor to begin the slow, symphonic music. “Of course I lack the necessary gams to fully convey my dancing skill, so my assistant here will have to do.”

Off screen Ginger stood tall, pushing back his shoulders and letting out a slow breath. He smiled, whizzing across the studio, hands held gracefully and toes pointed perfectly as he took a bow, settling besides the barre. Mettaton let out a curt cough, which was entirely unnecessary given his complete lack of organic organs, but _goshdarn he was not going to be upstaged by that fuzzy hairball!_

“Ballet originates from over 500 years ago upon the Surface, but it has gone through many changes over the centuries. Once dancers wore full ball gowns and complete suits of armour, with basic steps like hops and curtsies,” He paused for Ginger to give a demonstration, watching with envious camera-eyes as he pranced softly. Mettaton discretely pressed a button on a remote control, and a small rope unfurled from the ceiling, landing by his side.

“But nowadays we have incredibly complicated dance moves. We wear industrial fabrics to give freedom of movement and stretch, and _obviously_ we don tonnes of glitter to emphasise the action.” He swiftly pulled on the rope, which in turn tipped a bucket that was attached to the rafters, causing a thick cloud of dense pink glitter to shower upon the pair.

Ginger gave a cough as the cloud settled, kicking out a large puff of pink from his mouth. He wiped the herpes of the crafting world from his eyes, scowling over at Mettaton, who seemed far too please with himself.

The entire studio was caked in a fine layer of shimmering, sparkly pink.

“The basic steps to Ballet are the first through fifth positions, the plie, the sauté, the tendu, the pirouette, and the dramatic arabesque.”

Ginger dusted a handful of glitter from his shoulders and leotard, before setting himself in first position. _Stars above, this job better have good paths to promotions,_ he thought as Mettaton dictated for him to shift into second position.

  
  
  
  
  


Sans hovered behind you, hands held out just incase your bad leg gave way again. You pointed your toes, feeling the scar tissue beneath your muscles shift awkwardly as you moved into third position. You were glad you were wearing a loose fitting shirt and a pair of Sans’ old shorts that were a little tight; you could move much more freely than in thick winter clothes. Moving around so much had thoroughly warmed you up, with small beads of perspiration clung to your back, and despite the aches and pains you were smiling.

It felt good to dance again.

Papyrus watched on, enraptured by your own movements and he clumsily copied. You softly corrected them, raising his arms, helping him point his toes, and nobody was paying attention to the VHS tape anymore.

At some point Sans had given up shuffling after you, a bit more confident that you were able to dance unaided, though he winced whenever you wobbled.

“I don't have pointe shoes, so I can't do this part properly, but what he’s doing is called a third arabesque. Oh, Sans, come here a second.” You beckoned him over with your finger. He grinned, pushing the coffee table further out of the way, to make more floor space for you and Papyrus to dance.

“Could you get down on your knees, please?” You asked politely, wiping sweat from your brow.

Sans smirked, “usually i want a guy to buy me dinner before i do this…”

“Sans!” You gasped, and Papyrus rolled his eyed.

“NO WONDER YOU NEVER HAVE ANY DATES, IF YOU EXPECT SOMEONE TO BUY YOU FOOD FOR SIMPLY DANCING WITH THEM!” He cried, exasperated.

Sans snickered, lowering himself to kneel in front of you. You noticed he was getting into it too, pointing his toes and broad shoulders held strong as he waited for further instructions. Even when knelt down, Sans' head came up to your chest.  _How tall is he?!_ You wondered if there was a measuring tape around.

“Great, now hold onto my hips,” You giggled.

“oh don't worry, i plan on doing that later.” He muttered quietly, mouth tightening into a toothy grin. You ignored him, but couldn't help the hot blush that spread across the bridge of your nose.

“Bare my weight when I push against you.”

Sans nodded, and you leant forward, large skeletal hands gripping against the bones of your hips, holding you a long arms length away. Your back leg kicked out, toe pointed to extend the strong line as you balanced on the ball of your other foot. You held your arms aloft, hands soft and delicately relaxed in the air. Pressing further, your back arched as your leg was thrust higher, though the muscles tensed after weeks of disuse.

Papyrus clapped and laughed heartily.

“TEACH ME! WHEN I TRY IT LOOKS LIKE SOMEBODY HAS HACKED OFF MY LIMBS AND GLUED THEM ON THE WRONG WAY AROUND!”

You flopped your limbs down, panting with exertion.

“I think I've done enough exercise today.” You breathed heavily when you dropped onto the sofa. “Maybe next time.”

Papyrus nodded excitedly, settling into a beautiful fifth position as he turned back to the TV. After Mettaton plugged another advert for his CD, the credits rolled, and you glanced back down to the fat stack of DVDs and cassette tapes on the cushion next to you.

“What about this?” You passed across a bulky VHS tape, with a label that read “Pappy’s 5th Birthday.”

Papyrus shrieked, “NOOO! SANS, YOU SAID YOU'D BURNT THAT!” He began chasing after Sans as he snatched the tape from your hands.

“i lied. turns out that embarrassing videos are excellent blackmail. isn't this the year you decided to do a stage performance, reenacting your own life?” Sans asked as he ran around the coffee table.

“YES, AND IT WAS A WONDERFUL PERFORMANCE! ALL YOU DID WAS SIT BACK AND MAKE TERRIBLE PUNS!” His brother cried, though he was grinning wildly.

“huh, s’funny, i thought it was a _play_ on words?” Sans cackled, and you laughed as the pair darted around the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheh, this was a fun mini-chapter full of fluffy domestic things, featuring Mettaton and Ginger (before he was known as Burgerpants!)
> 
> I've gone back to Chapter 8 and added some art that I finished earlier in the week! Go check it out :3
> 
> Come and say Hi over on [My Tumblr](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com), and see WIP pictures for the [cover art I'm making for Stagnant!](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com/post/157986357111/womp-womp-wip-update-flat-colours-are-all-down) :)


	28. Imprint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starts with a little nsfw soft smut, but then... uh, a thing happens.

Pallid faux-sunlight rose in the early dawn, reflecting from the snow covered windowsill and refracting through thick, warped panes of glass. Delicate rainbows stained your sleeping face, morphing your visage into something ethereal, and Sans couldn't help but wonder at how _otherworldly_ you looked. He stifled a chuckle and supposed, in a way, you were.

As he lay propped up on a boney elbow with your body tucked into his chest, he could feel his Soul stutter, unable to quite comprehend why you of all people would have chosen him. Guilt nipped at the gaps between his ribs: had he taken advantage of the fact that you just wanted some happiness, some control over your life? Was it wrong of him to desire you when you were fragile and unsure of yourself?

Sans watched your chest rise and fall rhythmically, with the sheets bunched lazily around your legs, and he tried to logically walk through why he felt bad after such a wonderful night together. Perhaps he was worried the night's events were merely a stress relieving incident for you, never to occur again? Or maybe he was afraid you would regret your decision and want nothing more to do him?  
He would stand by whatever choice you would make, but couldn't help the tug of feelings that wanted more.

Your eyes roved beneath the lids, and you slept peacefully, though you occasionally letting out a rumbling snore until you shifted closer. Whilst dreaming, you unconsciously tucked your head against Sans’ broad sternum, bare knees pulled up close to your stomach. He noted that at some point in the night you must have grown cold, as his own turtleneck shirt hung across your body, though it did nothing to cover your naked lower half. The thick wool clung to your curves and your sweet scent mingled with his own. He wasn't sure why, but the sight turned him on a little; possessiveness tumbling beneath the heady smell of your skin.

You yawned and pressed your cheek up against his bare bones. Your wrist cracked as you stretched your arms. Sans flinched at the sound.

“What time is it?” You whispered, sleep fogged your eyes and clung to your voice in a thick lilt.

“time to get a watch.” He whispered in return, and you playfully poked at his chest as you smiled.

Sans snorted out laughter through his nasal cavity, “s’early. go back to sleep.”

Tired muscles shook as you tensed and stretched, and you grimaced at the dried out stains caked between your thighs. Your throat warbled out a quiet, disgusted noise.  
“I need a shower.” You grumbled, letting yourself revel in the magical warmth permeating from your bed-mate’s body.

His thick arms circled you, “nah,” Sans offered simply when he clung to your back.

“Come on!” You laughed, wriggling whenever his grip tightened. Your face was well and truly squashed against his sternum, and you untucked your legs to sling one over his hips. “If I have to play dirty to get clean, then so be it.” A flash of white teeth gleamed as you smirked, the cream shirt rode up higher and creased around your waist.

A purring rumble vibrated from within San’s ribcage, and a cyan blue tongue ran across the sharp points of his canines, “i like the sound of that. what're you offerin’?”

“I'll let you scrub my back?” You sang, and your smile grew wider when Sans shuddered.

“ew, no thanks, i’ll give that an epider _miss_ : you can deal with your own flaky skin cells, thanks.”

“Aww,” you pouted, “But I can't reach on my own.”

“fine! i’ll throw you a bone, but i don't get anything outta that.” He scoffed and looked down at you with a wry smile, “what else ya got for me?”

“I’ll let you touch my butt?” The offer was one you hoped he would take.

“i can do that anytime!” Sans murmured, voice deepening as he pulled an arm away from your back, and gripped at your leg around his hips. He rolled his pelvis forward, brushing the bones against the exposed juncture between your legs. You gasped, lacing your fingers in the gaps of his ribs. He reluctantly let go, only to playfully slap the palm of his hand against your exposed backside.

“see. i already did it.”

You flinched, and hissed as his bones cracked over a bruise staining the soft curves.

“Ow! I think I’m covered in bruises from last night.” You gruffed, though the memories of your rampant fucking brought heat to your face.

“and you wear them so prettily.” He dipped his face down to lick a stripe up your exposed jaw line and you shuddered with suppressed arousal.

“I’ll let you watch me whilst I shower?” You asked through your gasps; Sans’ thick tongue lapped at the teeth-shaped wounds beneath your earlobe. He huffed, irritated that the thick collar hid your neck and shoulders.

“hmm, now that's an interesting offer, if you put on a show for me?” He hummed within the chamber behind his teeth, pressing kisses against your skin.

“Great, now let me go so I can get clean.” You fidgeted away but skeletal fingers gripping your hips.

“but i like it when you talk dirty to me!” Sans grinned, appetite not quite satiated, even after last night’s antics. Magic coalesced between your legs, and you could quite easily lose yourself to the feeling of Sans rutting himself against you, but another shiver of disgust wormed down your back. The smell of old sweat and musk hung permeated through the dense cotton shirt.

“Ah!” You gasped, a breathy moan making you quiver, “Stop it, or I'll end up even filthier!”

“i’m looking forward to it.” Sans’ rumbling, baritone voice whispered against your ear, and you whine as a hardness pressed up against you, gliding smoothly across your folds. Sans moaned loudly, until a great thumping shook against the wall.

“IF YOU TWO CONTINUE YOUR DREADFULLY LOUD COITUS FROM LAST NIGHT, I MAY HAVE TO BLEACH MY EAR HOLES, AND GO LIVE AT THE INN!”

You immediately withdrew your limbs from Sans, as if Papyrus could actual see the two of you tangled together in bed. Sans slapped a palm across his eyes and groaned, his cheekbones turning a violent shade as he flushed with embarrassment. You had forgotten that the brother’s bedrooms shared a wall, and you hadn't been particularly… quiet with your affections last night.

“IS IT POSSIBLE TO BLEACH MY IMAGINATION?”

“Sorry!” You called through the wall, and Sans squeaked out, “whoops. sorry bro!”

“TOO RIGHT, ‘WHOOPS’! THIS IS HORRENDOUS! I TRY TO IGNORE SANS TALKING IN HIS SLEEP, NOT TO MENTION THAT DREADFUL SNORING, BUT NOW I HAVE TO DEAL WITH _THIS_? SOMEONE PLEASE PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY!” Papyrus whined, his voice muffled but shrill through the wood. You buried your face beneath the duvet, wanting the fabric to swallow you whole.

Sans was tinted azure from the tips of his square jawbone to above his sockets, and he laughed nervously.

“guess you can shower without worrying about wakin’ paps up.”

“I think I might literally die from the embarrassment.” You groaned weekly beneath the sheets. “If I could remember any of it, my life would be flashing before my eyes right now.” You felt Sans worm his way beneath the sheets, and he lifted them up to create a warm, cozy space of air around your heads. His grin sharpened as watched you mumble, red face hidden in your hands.

“I can feel the darkness closing in… Death surrounds me… The Grimm Reaper has come to steal my soul-” Your shoulders started shaking as you dissolved into laughter.

“what's a grim reaper? i thought humans didn't know about souls anymore?” He quirked.

Your bright eyes peered out between your splayed fingers. “We don't, not really. We use it metaphorically, or like a fairy-tale; an imaginary embodiment of someone’s being.” Sans nodded along, and you stifled a giggle. “The Grimm Reaper is, again, a myth, an embodiment of death in the form of a- a skeleton in a cloak. They carry a scythe for some reason too?”

Sans’ eyesocket twitched.

"ya’mean like this?” He scooped up the sheets and draped them around his skull like a hood. Dark shadows cut menacingly across his face, and you truly realised how intimidating Sans could be, even if he wasn't trying. He must have noticed the falter in your expression as he abandoned the quilt, pushing them away from over your face.

“you okay?”

“Uh- yeah.” You smiled weakly, and pressed a kiss to Sans’ teeth.

“heh, neat. let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

~

 

“You have no idea how lucky you are to have hot water.” You sighed into the trickling stream of the shower, washing the crusted sleep from the corners of your eyes. “Oh, uh, you can come in, if you'd like?”

The door creaked open, and Sans sheepishly shuffled in. For all his talk earlier, he sure looked bashful.

Soapy suds and clouds of steam obscured most of your body, but Sans couldn't help staring. Water trickled down the smooth surface of your skin, and he gulped as you scrubbed at the stains between your thighs.

“want me to help you out there, kitten?” He managed, his fingertips itching to touch you again. You paused, folding back the glass shower partition, cocking your hip as you revealed yourself. Sans stood up straight, shoulders tense as you smiled coyly up at him.  
You threw something small and holey in his direction, and he staggered, juggling to catch the soft yellow sphere.

“Make yourself useful,” You smirked. Fine sprays of water surrounded your body, and clear rivulets trickled down the side of the tub as you waited.

Sans kept his gaze down to the sponge, barely looking as he lathered more soap across your back, too distracted by the violent rainbow of bruises across your hips. You glanced over your shoulder, watching the mass of bubbles cover your skin, and sighed happily as Sans gently rubbed at your back.

He had remained quiet about Papyrus’ eclectic choice of toiletries, he mused as he squeezed more MTT brand ‘Sparkling Shiny-Clean Glitter Juice’ onto the sponge, but there was something wondrous about the way it left behind an iridescent sparkle, like a shimmering layer of crushed gemstones upon your skin. It wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last, that he stared up at you with awestruck eyes, like gazing upon a goddess radiating moonbeams.

His hands were cold against the soft heat of your skin, and he was getting a little worked up at how slippery your sides were. Beneath the bubbles and lather, he could see splotches of colour, and scores of small pink lines where his teeth had grazed. He sucked in a breath, and you tittered knowingly.

 _Papyrus is still in his room_ , He reminded himself, and concentrated on removing the thin lines of dirt that has worked their way across your upper back. He scrubbed, and rubbed a little harder, but they would not budge.

“uh, pass me the shower head a second.” He hummed. Confused, you detached the hot metal nozzle from the wall, holding the cable up as he rinsed your back.

 

There was a pause, and somehow, Sans grew even quieter than before.

 

“what the _fuck_ is that?” Worry and confusion set his voice tense. Sans dropped the shower head, and the water trickled uselessly against the bottom of the tub.

“What is _what_?” You tried to spin around, but strong hands kept you in place. You could feel the cold points of his fingers tracing lines across your shoulders.  
“If it's from last night, then you don't need to worry; it’ll heal-”

“no, it's a black shape, weird lines, and i dunno...”

“It’s probably dirt. Just clean it off?

“it won't come off!”

“Wha-? If this is a joke, it isn't very funny.” Was all you could manage, voice shaking. You slammed the button to turn the shower off, gripping onto Sans’ shoulder to step out of the tub. Naked, dripping water across the cool white tiles, you wiped down the large, steamed up mirror on the bathroom cabinet. It was a little streaky, and a touch too high to see your entire back, but it would do. Peering over your shoulder, you glanced at your reflection.

 

Thick, sprawling lines spread from the notches of your spine in between your shoulder blades, unfurling outwards towards the tips of your shoulders, curling back in, and looping back down to dip below your waist. From your crooked angle, the shapes almost looked wings, shaded in delicate greys and patterned to resemble the texture of scales. In the very centre lay bold, splintering lines, like a rising lightening strike.

 

A large, flightless moth sat stamped upon your back, crowned with decaying antlers.

 

 _Branded_ , was all your mind rang out; the hollow memory of pain was seared into a long forgotten corner of your brain.

 

“A tattoo?” Your hands dropped to your sides. Nausea churned at your stomach as sickly, anxious worry numbed your head.

“what is that?” Sans asked, voice thick with unspoken questions. He had never seen it before; always hidden beneath shirts or shrouded by darkness. Quietly, he moved to your side, but all you could do was stare at your slowly fogging reflection.

“It- it's a tattoo. I didn't know I had this.” You spoke numbly. Blood pumped loudly in your ears. Fuzzy images flashed across your vision, and something akin to de ja vu prickled across your skin.

“is it, like, a thing you're born with?” A comforting hand cupped around your jaw and turned your face toward him. You blinked up at Sans; his brow bone furrowed.

“No! It’s a thing- I- I think I need to sit down.” Your head started spinning, and despite the rapidly cooling water upon your skin, something warm trickled from your nose.

 

~

 

Sans pressed a hot drink into your free hand, and he carefully pulled the sticky, blood soaked tissue from your other, before pushing a clean one into your palm. You sensed his weight joining you on the sofa, but all you could do was stare dumbly down at the carpet. _You still hated the pattern. Ick._

“so…” Sans began tentatively.

You shrugged your shoulders, pulling the tissue away from your nose. It came away mostly clean, with the merest smudges of red upon white. Sans had helped you quickly dress into something warm, but you still felt cold, and there were tiny droplets of crimson seeping into the yellow shirt.  
A hefty sigh deflated your chest like a lead weight, and you pushed yourself to sit back upon the sofa. You pulled your legs up, tucking your chin upon your knees. The deep wounds smarted a little.

You barely said a word as Sans changed your bandages, but you were still keeping quiet.

You took a sip from the mug, and the ceramic let out a soft _ting_ as your teeth hit the lip. You grimaced; the copper in your mouth overpowered even the sweet inflorescence of the tea.

“i really don't know what a, uh, tattyew is.” He admitted, petting softly at your still damp hair. “care to fill me in?”

“It’s a lot to keep up with.” You shrugged, hoping Sans didn't hear the way your voice cracked.

Sans clicked a button on a remote control, and the TV flickered to life, offering a peaceful distraction; ambient white noise. “what dya mean?” Dulcet tones of a musical play set the room awash, like the sounds of quiet static.

Slowly, the tea washed away the taste of metallic rot that painted your palette, and you settled into the cushions.  
“It’s difficult for me to handle, forgetting everything, but then being drip fed bits and pieces of information with no context.”

Sans hummed thoughtfully, but didn't contribute.

“I have to, like, extrapolate information based upon fuzzy, dreamlike memories, and then bam, something new appears and I have to just deal with it.”

“so, what is that?” He tilted his head.

“Oh! A tattoo? It's basically ink that's stabbed beneath the skin. There's this small, handheld machine- uh, I don't know how it works- electromagnets or something, but it moves an ink covered needle up and down really fast, repeatedly pushing it beneath the skin. There are other ways, I think, older traditions that date back thousands of years, where you're poked manually with a stick to draw up permanent lines.” You took a sip of the tea.

“does it hurt?”

“Yeah: literal needles are being dragged through your flesh. I guess it depends on the individual’s pain tolerances, and it’d hurt more in places where the skin is thinner and less cushioned.”

“ _what the shit_?” Sans chortled, “humans are _badass_ : ‘oh, i want a fancy pattern on my skin, forever, so i’ll do it by wounding myself and mushing ink into it!’ oh my stars, can anyone do it?”

“Uh, I guess? It's best to go to a trained professional artist, who keeps things sterile, and has been tattooing for a while. Tattoos can get infected: it is technically a big, deep scratch, after all.” You clasped a palm around a pitted scar on your thigh, and a skeletal hand smoothed comforting lines across your shoulder. Speaking matter-of-factly, and the soft, repetitive motions helped calm you down, if ever so slightly.

He continued, mirth in his deep voice, “OH! that explains the paintings i’ve seen in magazines. there’s this one magazine we used to have, filled with bands and musicians, and some of the humans had pictures and stuff on their arms. i assumed it was painted on, and washes off. is it just a decorative thing?”

“That's pretty much it.” You pretended to pay attention to the TV, but your mind was feeling too wrung-out to make sense of the scene. “Some people get tattoos because it looks pretty, sometimes it's for religion or tradition, or a memorial, or something that really means a lot to them.”

Something tense hung in the air, like the slight crackle of magic.

“but…?”

“I can't quite explain it.” You sighed, “You ever have those gut-feelings, where you can't logically explain it, but your instincts are just screaming that something’s wrong?”

“well i don't have guts, but i know what you mean.” He quipped, and you could feel a grin boring into the side of your head. You couldn't help the tiny smile pulling at your lips, only for the small bundle of happiness to be extinguished. You felt burned out.

“Sometimes people don't have a choice.”

“i don't understand?" His hand stilled around your shoulder.

“Someti-” A thick knot made the words stick fast in your throat. You had no way of knowing, but uncertainty niggled against the base of your skull, trickling down your spine in cold, uneven shudders, “Sometimes people are marked. For most people, a tattoo is a sign of belonging, and also a celebration of individuality. For- for some, they are branded, and it is sign of being owned, or a physical reminder that there is no escape.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even the muttering, fluttering of a flightless Moth has consequences.
> 
>  
> 
> I've gone back and added optional music, and art to some chapters, all to enhance the story!


	29. Of Ivory and Sapphire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What happens when reality and the suppressed subconscious bleed into dreams?

 

_The meadow was smothered in soft green blankets of grass, whose rolling hills and mossy mounds were interrupted only by pastel white trees, with baby pink peonies peppering the landscape. Wispy cirrus clouds sailed high above your head through the otherwise spotless ocean of the dawning horizon. The waning chill of an early morning wind whipped against your skin, sticking limp hair against your sweat sheened forehead. The cold drew all heat away from the droplets of perspiration that clung to your naked body. You stood in the field, confused and shivering with a fever, unable to move for the fear paralysing your legs. You were not entranced by the delicate colours of the countryside, nor the picturesque hoard of flowers that climbs the smaller hills, for you were far too occupied with the fact that  you  were  not  alone._

_The figure stood before you, hair longer and skin tanned darker by the sun, weaving together a crown of flowers freshly plucked from branch and ground. A switch flipped in your mind and suddenly, with the utmost clarity, you remembered the sharp scent of blossoms, and the way the bark of the wisteria tree scraped against your hands as you picked another sprig._

_With the powers of omniscient hindsight, you knew you should_ **_not_ ** _be watching this vision of your past, but the younger version of yourself would never understand your quaking fear. Barely younger, mere months, perhaps a year or two, but now the things once hidden within the deepest corners of your Soul were beginning to unlock; knowledge and magic the keys that made your younger self appear naïve and frivolous. Your younger self stood, hair fluttering around her neck, crowning herself in the wreath of white wisteria as she set off towards the horizon._

 _No no no_ ** _no_** **_NO_** _, not again, not again! You could not let yourself- you wanted to shake your younger self by the shoulders and weep as you warned her. She needed to know the truth. Suddenly, the bonds against your legs snapped, unable to bear the resounding, building pressure of determined magic that hummed against your skin._

_You- or rather, she- skipped ahead, oblivious, with her back to you; body just as nude as your own. It was like she hadn't even noticed you, despite being the singular strange occurrence amongst the trees and flowers. Yet she continued to prance in circles around a cluster of daisies, giggling all the while. It made your stomach tense, knowing how sickeningly excited she was._

 

_You knew something was coming: something that stalked with the precision of a thousand years of practice. Something with knifepoint claws that tore the innocence out of your still beating heart, and ate it up before your very eyes. Something that torched you alive, laughing as your skin scorched beneath their touch, and it only left once you were no more than ashes; sullied, siphoned, and all burned up._

_You ran, lungs and muscles burning with a pain as sharp as the memories of ash raining from the sky. Rough, unhewn slabs of rock cut against the soft flesh of your soles and the blood made you slip, feet sliding until you righted your course and picked up speed. You had lost sight of yourself- her- as she giddily danced over the curve of a hill. Eyes wide, your pupils dilated as you scrabbled up the steep incline, trying to catch up to the poor child. Mud and desaturated petals stuck to your legs, and your heart was hammering in a rib-cracking rate. You wanted to cry out, warn her before it was too late... but you were sure there would be consequences._

 

**_I don't think you're supposed to be here._ **

 

_Whatever was coming, you needed to stop it. Even if it was just a dream, letting it happen again and watching it from an outside perspective would be unbearable. It was horrible, a writhing mass of corpse coloured flesh, sharpened ivory horn weapons, and lips that dripped with saccharine poison. The pain, oh how you remembered the pain, the burning and the scratching against your skin, singeing fire through your nerves- You needed to stop her before she reached the looming white structure upon the horizon-_

 

You gasped, mouth dry and hanging open as if you were about to speak, shaking arms clutching the wooden rungs of the bed frame. Confusion dazzled your brain and you tried to blink away the fogginess steaming across your eyes. Though you were still jammed between Sans and the wall, you had crawled up the bed, knelt halfway up the headboard, reaching out to the windowpane. Your hand hovered before the window latch as your brain tried to comprehend what was happening. _What were you reaching out for?_

 

_Oh.._

 

_That's right…_

 

You had woken up for a glass of water to quench your parched throat. You pulled away from the window, dreams already forgotten, though the remnants of a nightmare sent adrenaline shivering through your veins. You wouldn't have been able to recall them, even if you tried. With a trudging, sleepy mind, you chalked your shivering up to the cold, though your thighs stuck together as if you were sweating in your sleep.

Gingerly, you shuffled down the bed, hoping to creep over the sleeping Sans without disturbing him. He snored softly, stretched upon his back with his stocky limbs sprawled out across the mattress: it was a wonder there was any space left for you amongst the pointy elbows and bony legs.

The feat of getting out of bed proved difficult with your tired, uncooperative limbs, and as one leg stretched over Sans, your toes brushed against the crumby carpet. It was a victory considering the massive bulk of bone beneath you. Your calves ached with the strain, half straddling Sans with your arms braced against the headboard. You flushed, heat working through your system when your hips inadvertently pressed against Sans’, and he let out a quiet, breathy moan. Squeaking in surprise, you hopped the rest of the way out of bed, and leapt to the door.

“huh?” He groaned, peeling open an eyesocket. “whatchya doin’?”

“I'm thirsty.” you whispered, smiling sheepishly at the shining light of his eye. He nodded, skull illuminated by the soft, pearly light through the window.

He hummed, “m’kay,” lazily waving a hand before he dropped his head heavily onto the pillow.

You paused beneath the doorway, pushing stray locks of hair from your sticky forehead and you gazed across the dark room. Sans had turned onto his front, obviously sleeping, if the immediate rumbling snores were any indicator. With a sigh of relief you grasped the doorknob and set out to the kitchen, wondering if you had really seen the flicker of magic around the doorframe, or whether it had been a trick of light-deprived eyes.

 

You sighed happily as the residual heat of the bed warmed your cold feet, and you licked the last drips of ice water from your lips. Sans immediately reached out, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and hugging you closer. A hand ventured down, pressing into the softness of your chest and stomach. He had taken to squishing any body part in reach, any time that he could. He'd always mumble that he liked how soft you were, yet he could still feel familiar, solid bones. His hand had wormed its way to your hip, pressing against the rounded bones of your pelvis, before travelling up to your ribs.

“Don't squish too hard, or I'll bruise more.” You slurred, eyes fluttering half closed as you struggled to keep them open. Wordlessly, he gently stroked your thigh and coaxed you back to sleep. Your breathing grew soft and shallow, and your fingers occasionally twitched beneath the sheets, but Sans fought to stay awake a while longer, holding you as if he would never get another chance.

  
  


_Despite the multitude of metal pegs hammered into the ground, and the heavy, expensive weights stitched into the hems, the sides of the cloth marquee fluttered in the wind as if they were not weighed down at all. You walked closer to the temporary structure, holding a vague and flimsy feeling of surprise that the pegs had actually penetrated the permafrost, but the emotion was distant, as if wrapped in cotton wool._

_Nonetheless, it was strange, as even during the brief respite where summer staved off most of the snow, the warmth was never enough to crack the cold air and earth. The land was solid, impossible to till, let alone harvest, where only the hardiest of nature's crops survived._

_You glanced up as your feet automatically found their way over rubble and wildflowers alike, making a brisk pace towards the marquee. The sky- you thought you could never forget the soft cotton clouds and powder blue horizon of a deceptive summer afternoon- but your mind couldn't quite picture it anymore. It looked fake, like a thick oil painting where the details were all worn out and blurred together. Superficially perturbed, you looked down._

_Emerald grass was smothered beneath your bare soles, warm and slimy against your toes. The blades of greenery snapped beneath your feet, cracking like slivers of hard ice, though the fragments never broke your tender skin. The sensations weren’t quite right either: much like the sky and your numb head, everything was too soft or displaced. Nothing held the sharp, crisp details of reality, but you supposed your memory had failed once before._

_Something pushed past the thick padding around your skull. It was quiet, yet striking in juxtaposition to the soft, blurred world._

 

**_Why?_ **

 

 _The pretty sun bathed you in a golden glow until you suddenly found yourself pacing through the shadow of the tent. Far too cold- icy, in fact- like the stinging of a familiar winter storm upon unprotected skin. Yet, at the same time, the feeling was faded, like something imagined was trying very,_ **_very_ ** _hard to be real._

 

**_This isn't quite how you remembered it. Or, perhaps this isn’t even real. Is this the fading shell of a memory, or an invention of subconscious emotions?_ **

**_You don't quite remember anything anymore, do you?_ **

**_Well, it doesn't matter anyway: dreams never make sense._ **

 

_You ducked under the folded fabric doors of the entrance and stepped past an invisible barrier. Magic crackled across your skin in gentle waves of static and shivers, and you briefly realised the feeling was just as sharp as that strange voice in your head; almost real. The juices of split grass stalks stained the canvas floor with smudges, painting a bright, clear forest of footprints as you walked further inside. A large oaken chair sat centred at the far end of the bare, sheltered room. Thick trunks and branches twisted and turned about themselves, as if the wood had grown naturally into the shape of a grand, knotted throne. The sight held a strange nostalgia, and the gentle breath of a sigh made your chest feel empty. You missed the trees; the century old swooning willows, the tender and velvety bark of the silver birch trees, and the grove of apple trees with their small and bitter fruits. The wisteria sprigs that circled your head let off a wonderful fragrance that slowly filled the room. You could still feel the pollen upon your fingers._

_Another sigh, but this one was loud, impatient, and it did not fall from your lips. You paused, mere feet away from the throne. A tall, sinuous figure poised stoically, perched upon the tree’s warped seat, nearly blending into the bark with their dark clothes. At first you thought it was a doll, so still that you wouldn’t have detected any threat. Movement caught your eye, and you watched the hems of their silk robe swing in the breeze pushing through the open marquee doorway._

_You couldn't see their eyes, but you knew without a doubt that they were staring straight at you. Their face was obscured, shrouded by a tattered, opaque veil, and haloed in sunlight shining through gaps in the dense fabric walls. Something tall and half concealed held the lace high above their head._

 

**_A twisted ivory crown for a self proclaimed Monarch._ **

 

 _With a voice that snapped like the splintering of bent branches, they bemoaned,_ **_“Why do you wear so many layers of disguise?”_ **

_Even though your ears were muffled, the words ricocheted around the tent. You flinched as they shifted, their movements jolting but confident._

**_“You have come to me, naked and afraid, yet you still quiver behind a mask that you believe to be true.”_ **

_Thick corded veins lined the tops of their deathly pale hands. The skin looked cold and necrotic. They waved, delicate fingers brushing the air as if to dismiss you, yet, curiously, you could not move. You were trapped in place, like roots were sprouting from your feet to burrow securely beneath the earth. You could almost feel the dense and icy soils shifting and compacting the further your roots delved._

_You knew you should be panicking, but you were placated and subdued. Logically, you_ **_knew_ ** _you were in danger, but the voice that crackled like logs in a scorching fire lulled you into a false sense of security. It was almost like the urge, like the sickly oozing corruption was taking hold once more as you watched yourself from outside of your own body. However, the feral rage and the unquenchable thirst for the unobtainable were absent, and you could still feel the cool summer’s breeze against your naked form._

 

_It was then, you realised, that you could still feel pain._

 

_Precise and razor-tipped, piercing past your veil of unconsciousness._

_A sharp hiss was forced past your teeth as you were struck, shot with a white-hot poker of magic lancing straight through your chest. The only thing keeping you from doubling over in agony was the very magic that kept you rooted in place. It held you upright by the taut string unravelling from your chest._

_You were strung like a marionette, and the tight threads pulling at your breastbone forced your back to arch. Invisible twine caught around your wrists, pulling your hands up into a delicate curve._

_You were being posed, softly and assuredly, like a puppet ready to dance._

 

**_It’s a curious thing, to feel pain in a dream._ **

**_It's almost like you're not dreaming at all._ **

 

_The electric pain vanished as soon as you were posed, leaving your bosom raw and hollow. Your head was forced to snap to the side, bending to gaze upon the familiar shade of sapphire that lit up the room. The sun seemed to have dimmed as the fabric walls morphed into a midnight blue: the colour was deep and somehow dark. It was almost like the precious orb of your Soul cast a darkness, a negative light._

_A black hole dusted with powdered topaz and opals._

**_“You let yourself succumb, and now you suffer the consequences. You have forgotten yourself, young one.”_ **

_You choked back a sob, unvoiced cries held back by the magical dam in your throat. You could not speak nor scream, only weep, chanting inside_ **_It hurts it hurts it hurts put it away protect it put it back hollow hollow shield it  P U T  I T  B A C K_ **

_Agony, stealing your voice before it could reach your lips and blocking your airways, like being choked from the inside. You were being bent, snapped, forced to twist your own body like the warped throne before you._

**_“Those silly faux horns. A mockery! You need neither cloak nor costume to keep you from harm: you could tear any attacker to pieces with your bare claws.”_ ** _again they swept a decrepit hand, and you felt another layer of yourself be stripped away._

 

**_Vulnerable it hurts it hurts_ **

 

_Cackling laughter rang out like breaking windows, shattering and splintering against your ears._

**_“The feral child that fell underground is all but imaginary; an invention of your mind to fill in the gaps of your magically induced amnesia. All of those melodic speeches of warring morals and declarations of love were mere fantasy. You are not a carefree bairn, swept along by the tides of romance and facades of quandaries. You are a warrior, my warrior, and you have forgotten your duty!”_ **

_The tumultuous sapphire mist shifted behind its transparent case, and the once shining, clear glass grew foggy. Pain made your legs quake as you twirled, and the marquee grew darker._

**_“TRAITOR!”_ ** _The sound made the smooth exterior of your Soul vibrate, threatening hairline fissures crazed along its surface._

_You wished to clasp your hands about your throat as you fought to breath, but your body was shifting of its own accord. You were merely a suffocating doll, dancing prettily as strings cut into your skin. The wounds were as invisible as the threads, but the pain, however, was unbearable._

**_"Beneath the shedding skin of a viper lay venomous fangs. Your frailty is feigned, and your delusions of loving that abomination are imagined. It is not real, but I will offer you a chance to redeem yourself.”_ **

_They scoffed and twirled one of their dead fingers in the air. You span, and span, and span, dancing upon the balls of your feet. A cold breeze whipped against your naked body, and goosebumps raised the soft hairs on your arms and legs._

**_“It is simple: kill one of those foul beasts, grasp its Soul, and you can pass through the Wall. If you cannot return home, then throw yourself from the tallest craggy ledge, drown yourself in a puddle, slit your wrists with your own teeth, if you must! But you shall find a way back to me.”_ **

_Icy tears clung to your eyelashes. The words stung as if you had been struck again, and_ _you were growing dizzy from hopping relentlessly across the canvas floor. The figure was a blur of white lace and black bark as you danced. The threads pulled tighter, reinforcing themselves, growing as thick as rope and strong as Spidermage silk._

**_“You have a single task to complete. Do not disappoint me again.”_ **

_A long, greying finger pointed at your Soul hovering just out of reach, and the pain made you collapse to your knees. Finally, you let out a scream, the noise a screeching wail of repressed cries that made your blood quiver. Your arms hung loosely by your sides, legs bent awkwardly beneath your listing body._

 

**_The strings are not cut, merely slackened._ **

 

_The voice was quieter now. Your head pulsed, and the figure disappeared from their throne in a cloud of thick, cloying smoke._

_Hot red blood trickled from your nostrils, and your vision began sparkling with white lights. Curiously, you missed the pure ocean blue lights that were cast upon your skin. Now it was defiled, the colour of corpse’s lips and stagnant water._

_Amongst the gentle breeze of the meadow, and the wind whispering through the wisteria trees, you heard the distant murmurs of your companions._

 

**_They are waiting for y o u_ **

 

_The sapphire of your Soul pulsed weakly as it was forced back into your body, tainted and murky, but you relished in the certainty of being whole. The feeling came far too late, and your eyes fluttered closed. Your head lolled downwards and blood trickled in thin red lines over your lips, slipping down your chin. Something hot was rekindled within your chest, and crimson pooled in your lap._

 

 _“_ **_It is lovely to see you bow once more, my loyal Moth.”_ **

  
  


You jolted awake, dazed, with sticky tears trailing down your cheeks and dripping from your chin. Hysterical confusion made you sputter in the darkness, only to find yourself standing somewhere unfamiliar, with sweat trickling down your temples and slipping down your neck. The static playing on the TV offered little light, and the noise made your heart race with anxious fear. Each panted breath was laborious, and your eyes frantically searched the room as nightmare fog clung to your mind. Two white pips stared out from the inky black, shifting slightly as they took in your frightened form. You realised bony hands were clasped upon your shoulder, sweat making the porous surface slippery, and though the contact made you feel a sliver of safety, you flinched nonetheless. Your breathing hitched, and you failed at holding back a sob. It was dark, so very dark, and you swayed on your feet as you gasped in air, clinging to Sans’ broad frame.

 

“hey, c’mon now, it's okay.” Sans murmured quietly, rubbing gently up your back and then down your arm. “i’m here. it’s okay.”

 

“Wha-? I- I…”

 

Sans hushed you, whispering soothingly, gripping around your shoulders and guiding you to the stairs. You were breathing rapidly, muttering out half-finished and undecipherable sentences, but too disoriented to notice him steering you around the broken ceramic lamp upon the floor. If you had just suffered an episode of that strange delirium, then you had appeared to have pulled through, but Sans never once saw that dangerous gleam in your eyes. Just cold, lifeless eyes that stared right through him.

He wasn't sure whether you should go back to sleep or not, but as soon as he fluffed your pillow and swathed the thick blanket around your shoulders, your eyes closed and you huddled in on yourself. You were asleep within seconds, letting out little bleating whimpers that tugged at Sans’ Soul. _At least you're staying relatively still in bed_ , he thought whilst restlessly rubbing his hand across the back of his skull _, no signs of getting up this time._

Sans palmed at his eye sockets and turned back down stairs to clear up the mess, trying to make sense of the situation.

The second time he was woken up, he found an empty bed, an open bedroom door, and froze when he heard a violent  _crash!_ Fearing the worst and ready to chase after you, he warped into the living room to find you twitching and dancing, naked and bathed in the flickering light of the tv static. Mesmerised, he had watched on, fear making his bones rattle. It was disturbing how your eyes were wide open, as if you were awake and terrified, yet glassed over and lifeless. You wouldn't respond as he called your name; your mouth was moving, lips curving into a pain frown, but no words were coming out. He wasn't sure what to do, and he didn't even know _how_ you had gotten through the barrier he had placed across the bedroom door.

Thinking back to the first time you woke him up, he tried to be discrete in dismissing the barrier, not wanting you to be suspicious when the magic crumbled to let you downstairs. When he had thrown it back up, he was distracted by you clambering into bed with a glass of water in hand. _Sloppy workmanship,_ he thought.

Sans dropped the remnants of the lamp into the trash, noting to check your HP for injuries if you had _somehow_ bypassed his magic, or crashed straight through it. A gross shudder wracked his spine when he recalled your limbs snapping and clicking as you posed, stretching painfully beyond their limits, but you would not stop. _You could not stop._ He had never witnessed anybody sleep walking before, but it was horrifying to watch you stumble listlessly about the room, body mimicking the dances he had seen you teach Papyrus. You looked like a toy; a dancing doll, manipulated by strings-

Suddenly, the skeleton's eyesockets grew wide, and despite the violation of privacy, he warped into his brother's room to make sure he was okay. _If you- if you had waltzed straight through his magical wall then-_ his Soul span uneasily, but settled in relief when he found the lanky bundle of bones sleeping soundly. He hoped the noises hadn't disturbed Papyrus. Sans chuckled slightly when he stepped into his own bedroom: as often Papyrus claimed that sleep was for the weak, it was apparently a familial trait to be a heavy sleeper. He fondly recalled a moment, many years ago, where they had both slept straight through the unexpected tremors of an earthquake, waking up the next day none the wiser, only to find all of the furniture had wobbled out of place during the night and the news showed a Hotland tunnel had caved in!

You stirred when Sans’ weight shifted the mattress springs. He paused, waiting for you to wake up at any moment, but you pushed yourself deeper into the downy pillows and let out a vibrating snore. Sans ground his teeth together in frustration and waved his hand in a complex motion, focusing on building a stronger blue barrier around the bedroom door. He wasn't sure if he should bother wasting the energy, but knew he'd sleep safer with it up. You sighed and Sans watched your eyes flicker behind your eyelids.

Sans desperately wanted to know what was bothering you and whether he could help at all, even if it was simply through listening to your anxieties. He glanced over at your sleeping form, and strangely enough, you hadn't sustained any damage. However, he noticed that your Soul looked… odd. He couldn't quite place a phalange on the oddity without seeing it directly- if you ever let the relationship get that far- but he vaguely wondered if that was the source of your problems. He settled down in bed, staring up at the ceiling as the dawn's light grew brighter, and resolved to ask that you to finally give him some answers.

 

_For now, however, he would stay awake to make sure that you slept peacefully._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooboy, I hope you guys like creepy angst! Cause I've got a bucket full of the stuff for you!
> 
> I swear, there IS a point to all of this, and there are answers coming. I'm not sure whether to have some filler in between, but this should be ending soon (if I don't go off on a tangent and create another bloody mini-arch!)
> 
> Let me know what you think, or come and say hello and ask questions over on [my Tumblr!](url)
> 
> As always, a tremendous thanks for reading, and keeping me motivated with your comments and kind words :3 x


	30. Coffee-On-A-Stick: Part I

 

“hm, yeah, barely touched those pancakes. i mean, you know how much i like eating leftovers, but hu- her subspecies is supposed to eat more than that.”

 _He sounded sad._ Yo _u didn’t want him to be sad._

“sleepin’ isn't a problem at all, more like too much sleep: just yesterday she was dead to the world for nearly 24 hours, then woke up and thought it had only been a _small nap_. she was confused how it had been longer than a couple’a hours! heh yeah, put my record to shame.”

A scratching sound of worried fingers itching nervously against bone, almost like ceramic grinding upon stone; dry, ringing and hollow. You were barely listening, listlessly staring up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, counting the glow-in-the-dark stars taped to the plaster. Through sheer lethargy, your gaze dropped and your head fell unceremoniously to the pillow. Somebody else let out a concerned humm and replied in a hurried, not-quite whisper. You couldn't hear very well through the muffle of the walls and the all-encompassing pull of unconsciousness.

 

“she's not fallin’ down, paps.”

 

_You didn’t want to go back to sleep._

“no, not sick- not in that sense anyway. maybe mentally unwell? who knows. yeah, i’ll see if she'll talk to me.”

The door opened a crack, and somebody sighed at the sight of you pathetically curled up in the corner of the bed. Sleep plunged you into the darkness, regardless of whether you wanted it or not.

  


**“** **_Look at me when I’m speaking, child!”_ **

 

 _The words caught you off guard and you froze whilst settling into third position. Your hands stiffened by your thighs and your chin automatically jerks up. Her clipped tone was neither soft nor gentle, yet you always wished it would be._ _It was the tone of voice used to teach you a lesson: impatient and demeaning._

**_“Does a warrior have a purpose if he cannot fight?”_ **

_You hated trick questions, but you shook your head regardless, staring your guardian straight in the eye. Her voice rang clearly through the training hall, and the judgemental gaze of your peers was trained against the back of your head. Someone along the barre tittered as a mortified flush crept along your cheeks, yet your guardian seemed to pay them no mind._

_“_ **_Does a songbird have a purpose if she cannot sing?”_ ** _She pressed, gazing down to where you stood. You shook your head again, far too afraid to realise the suppressed giggling had suddenly stopped._

 **_“Good.”_ ** _She cooed patronisingly._ **_“Aren't you doing well today?”_ **

_You hated trick questions. Before you could answer her rhetorical puzzle, her arm raised, and you held back from flinching when a cane whipped against the crown of your head. The sharp and sudden pain made you whimper, and you chewed at your lip to stop cries spilling out. You were all punished if even one child in the group was caught cowering or crying. Your guardian had said the sound was not befit for warriors, and her punishments apparently kept you all in line. As the oldest, you felt responsible for their wellbeing and did whatever you could to keep them from harm. Often, you'd volunteer to take the collective punishment all by yourself, and the thought made your chest tighten. You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked back the wetness in your eyes. The rest of the group were learning rather quickly, though you prayed your guardian did not hear the tiny sniffle from the furthest end of the barre. The sound caused phantom pains to shoot down the backs of your legs, muscles still strained after being forced to dance until the sun rose._

**_“Does the figure in your music box have a purpose if she cannot dance?”_ ** _The cane rested atop your head again, pressing down harder and harder._

_Your heart caught in your throat at the implications of her question, but you were far too aware that punishments would occur if you did not answer. For the third time, you shook your head, and the cane pushed further. Your eyes grew wide and watery_

_when the force caused your head to dip, making you to look down at the puddle of blood around your feet. The crimson pool was seeping into the pink satin of your slippers, and staining your skin as it rolled in thick rivulets from the holes in your leg. With each involuntary quake of your knees the metal springs embedded into your muscle shook, letting out another trail of red from the weeping wounds._

_Dark hems of a trailing skirt moved silently into your peripheral vision, and she drew her head down to hiss words by your ear._

 

**_“What is your purpose then, little Moth?”_ **

  


The sound of shuffling fabrics made your eyes snap wide open and as coherence finally washed over, you found your tongue moving. Whatever the words were, they died on your lips and trailed off into something mumbled.

 

“what's that?”

 

You blinked up at Sans with heavy eyelids, watching with a narrowed vision as his arms wormed into the sleeves of his jacket. You let out a confused hum, turning onto your side and snuggling into his pillow. The material was still warm yet thoroughly pancaked from the weight of his skull, but you were too sleepy to fluff it out. You inhaled the musky, pine scented sheets and vaguely wondered, at what point exactly, did your relationship develop to having your own sides of the bed?

“what's ‘viper’?” Sans repeated as he slipped on his shoes.

“It's-” You paused. The word, though simple and meaningless, rang alarm bells in your head. “It's a type of snake. Why’d you ask?”

“i kinda guessed from the context. you been dreaming about snakes?” He asked, amused.

Your knotted hair tangled further as you shook your head.

“huh, you must have been thinking about animals an awful lot last night: you were talking in your sleep, like repeating words over and over...” The corners of his smile dipped as concern rang in his voice. He tried to cover it up by grinning and casually shoving his hands into his pockets. You curled into the pillow, wondering why your heart was pounding so rapidly beneath your breastbone. It made you feel nauseous.

“Where are you going? S’really early.” Your tongue felt fuzzy and dry as you spoke, but you didn't want to admit that you had _no idea_ what time it was. The days had lost all meaning, blurring into one continuous strip of feeling so very lost and uncertainty without reprieve. Hours were nothing but a void of time to somehow fill until you broke the monotony with the numb emptiness of sleep, and without distractions in between, your mind wandered. _It never ended well when your mind wandered._

“gotta pay the bills somehow!” He chirped happily, though it sounded a touch strained. He was obviously exhausted; voice thick and irritable, and his eye sockets were lined with a dusting of grey.  

“luckily i’m not on overtime at the sentry station since the ‘human panic’ has died down: usually they don't last so long.” He trailed off and you shrugged beneath the sheets. “i guess it's just unlucky that i have to actually, uh, work.”

“Where are you working today? You've said before that you've got a few different jobs, but I still don't know where you regularly work.”

“uh, coffee-on-a-stick stand today, sentry unit tonight, and then morning sentry duty for the rest of the week. maybe a couple more stints at the coffee stand on the evenings: bit of extra cash, ya’no?” He shrugged, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You stared over the edge of the mattress, watching him kick at clumps of dirt on the carpet. You really needed to clean. Maybe as a way to repay the brother’s for their hospitality, and the extra cost that comes with another mouth to feed... _After a nap, anyway_ , your exhausted muscles and fatigue riddled thinking only served to remind the diminishing quality of your sleep.

_Why did it feel like you ran a marathon last night?_

“are you okay?” Sans had stopped in place with his hood pulled over his eyes, shrouding most of his skull in darkness. “what do you need?”

You puffed out a long and weary sigh through your nose, but the words still stuck in your throat. “I need to get out.”

“you mean in general? ‘cause we've talked about this: the only way out of the underground. you'd have to.. or do you mean us?” He gestured at the space between you, eye lights intently studying your chest. You sighed, sorrow peeling at the surface of your bones, knowing you were causing more trouble. You didn't want Sans to worry, and you hated knowing he constantly doubted the _only_ good thing you'd felt in months. You knew he was constantly giving you an easy way out, if you so chose, but his insistence sometimes came across as regret. _You didn't want to lose him._

The blue light pulsed sluggishly, and Sans could almost see tiny hairline cracks forming the longer the silence was drawn out. “wait- stop it! whatever you're thinking about, stop it, because you're hurting yourself.”

Your head tilted up to look at Sans, brows furrowing with further confusion. He frowned, and much to your chagrin, flipped the thick blankets and hoisted you to sit at the edge of the mattress. You grumbled out in irritation, but Sans cut you off.

“nope, hush it. get dressed, you're coming to work with me today.”

 

~

 

“Have I made you late?” You mumble into your scarf, waiting for Sans to lock the front door. He laughs heartily and turns on his heels to face you,

“kitten, if i wanted to be on time for work, i would've woken up two hours ago!”

You stare down at the footprints in the slight dusting of snow across the porch.

“I didn't hear your alarm didn't go off at all.” You muse, “Did you even go to sleep?” Each word bubbled through the thick knitted fabric in soft white clouds, steaming into the biting chill of the air.

“tsh, don't sweat it, i got a few hours. plus, us skeletons don't need that much sleep.” He shrugged through the thick padding of his jacket, and you quickly follow behind. You pull up the hood of your grey jacket, feeling a little sad that it barely smelled like Sans anymore.

"But you _like_ sleeping, at least. You should try and sleep more if you enjoy it.” You offered, and pulled your scarf up over your nose.

You trudged behind Sans in relative silence, avoiding eye contact with the other Monsters bustling about their own business. The houses thinned the further you walked, and the trees suddenly slipped away to reveal a gurgling stream. You had only ventured this way twice before. The mist had grown so thick that you could barely see Sans anymore, just a foggy patch of blue, and in the distance you could make out a tall stripe of grey. You squinted and flinched as the shade cried out.

“AH, THERE YOU ARE SANS! WHEN YOU MESSAGE ME SAYING ‘TEN MINUTES’ YOU SHOULD BE OUT HERE IN TEN MINUTES. I'VE BEEN FREEZING MY TOOSHIE OFF FOR AT LEAST HALF AN HOUR! ” Papyrus let out a shrill, shrieky from the other side of the thin rocky path. The lanky skeleton jogged hurriedly across the gravelly snow, and his teeth turned down into a grimace.

“you could've waited in the house for us?” Sans laughed, and waved to his approaching brother.

“Well, yes..” Papyrus paused when his form finally came into focus, “BUT THIS IS MUCH MORE DRAMATIC, LIKE ON TELEVISION!”

Sans raised his eyebrows in silent questioning, but received no answer. Papyrus let out gasp as he noticed you trailing behind.

 

“YOU!” He points a red gloved finger down at you, and you stare back, eyes wide with surprise.

 

 _Ah shit._ After the thoroughly embarrassing incident with the painfully thin walls, you’d been too exhausted to smooth things out with Papyrus. You hadn't been avoiding him, per se, simply unable to get out of bed due to an existential crisis clawing at your bones.

“woah, what's got your femurs in a twist, paps?” Sans chuckled as you half hid behind his stout frame. Papyrus easily swept his brother aside, and his frown deepened. You were glad that this end of town was quieter, as Papyrus booming voice usually turned heads.

“I’M VERY UNHAPPY THAT YOU LIED TO ME, SAN’S FRIEND. OR DARE I SAY… SAN’S _DATE FRIEND!”_ He waggles a finger in an accusatory manner.

“L-lied?” You ask between chattering teeth. _Had the temperature suddenly dropped?_

“YOU SAID YOU HAD NO INTENTIONS WITH MY BROTHER!”

You fight back the urge to let out a surprised laugh, not wanting to come across as facetious.

“I- I didn't at the time! Those, uh, feelings developed the longer we spent time with each other.” Embarrassed flushes crept along your neck, and Papyrus’ hand flopped at the wrist, jaw falling open. There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by the wind howling across the surface of the river.

“AH, I SUPPOSE THAT DOES MAKE SENSE…” He admitted, slouching a little.

Sans let out a grunt, looking rather peeved with his teeth boring into a frown.

“bro; if this was bothering you, why didn't you just ask us?”

“We are consenting adults,” Encouraged by Sans’ words you continue, “Plus, I like you too much to lie to you.” Your heart skipped a beat. You tried to immediately forget the painfully obvious lie, and the fact that you had lied to him before. Your Soul scrunched up in abject horror as you strayed further from your set of moral standings. Papyrus straightened his shoulders, eye sockets wide and sparkling with affection.

“YOU LIKE ME? I BET YOU'RE JUST USING SANS TO GET CLOSER TO ME, YOU SCOUNDREL!” The smile on his face is too broad for him to be genuinely upset with you, but you still blanch at the statement. You garble out half-finished words, too shocked and far too tired to properly process the situation.

“YOUR LOOK OF UNBRIDLED LUST SAYS IT ALL. DO NOT FRET, I WILL FORGIVE YOUR DISHONEST WAYS!” He clutched a hand to his chestplate, letting his scarf drift lazily in the breeze. Snow began piling on your shoulders as the wind picks up, and you spare a glance towards Sans. He looks just as speechless as you are.

“I WILL NOT LET YOU TOY WITH MY BROTHER’S EMOTIONS ANY LONGER! WE SHALL DATE SO I MAY PUT YOU OUT OF YOUR MISERY, OR WE TUSSLE AND I CAN SET YOU ON THE PATH OF RIGHTEOUSNESS!” His eyes sparkle wickedly.

“I can't date you, I- I don't like you _that_ way. I- Sans and- We-!” You squeak out, heart beat hammering rapidly as Papyrus raises an arm. _Is he going to hit you?_

Your thoughts are cut off as he flicks a wrist and something metaphysical lurches within your chest. The teal waters and distant forests suddenly lose their colours, and somehow the snowy air dulls to a further contrasting monochrome. In your peripheral vision Sans shifts nervously, his face pulled into a tight, horrified smile, and Papyrus bounces happily ahead of you. That _thing_ in your chest pulls again and burst free, decorating the ground in soft pools of rich blue light. Papyrus’ words are lost in the icy winds, and lead weights bind your feet to the ground. _You feel rooted in place. A flower with a sharp and twisted grin waves in the breeze, your head is haloed by a ring of bullets. The colour of your Soul is putrid and rotten, and the misty contents turn thick, dripping and oozing behind the foggy glass case. Your muscles burn as if you'd been forced to dance through the night again. The tissue of your leg stings as the wounds are torn open. Someone whispers that you could kill him with your bare claws and revel in the victory by sucking the marrow from his dusty bones. You're falling falling falling down an infinite tunnel and you're reminded once aga_ **_in thAT YOU HAVE A JOB TO DO STOP CRYING FIND THEM FIND THEM FIND THEM_ **

 

The infinitely tall ceilings of the cave suddenly feel too small _too small too low hovering mere inches above your head_ and your rapid breathing plumes out in quick, short clouds. You hands quiver as you hold them across your eyes, trying to block out the visions that flicker across them.

“HUH, THAT'S ODD. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR SOUL?” Papyrus asks, hands falling to his sides as he waits for your turn.

“Please don't hurt me!” You sob, crouching to subconsciously make yourself a smaller target. Your mortified tears freeze against the unprotected skin of your cheeks, and your emotions run wild: you're vulnerable and naked with your Soul on display, and still trying to comprehend the thing exists in the first place causes you to gasp out with loud frustrated cries.

“AH.. It appears I have exceeded my Greatness coefficient, and it has bordered upon Terrifying.” He taps his gloved hand upon his chin, and flinches as you let out a fearful whine into your hands. “ISPAREYOU!” He yells, and if you were coherent enough to peer out from between your fingers, you would have noticed the colour returning to the earth.

 

A hiccup makes your chest shudder and as your Soul slips neatly back into place, filling the great gash left within the very void of your being. Everything hurts, Soul now hidden but pulsing and shivering wildly in fear and confusion, yet on the outside a strange sense of calm has descended across your mind like a gloriously numb veil. Your mind tries to protect itself from further trauma and buries everything it can deep, deep, deep below, with all the other long-forgotten memories. Without a word you slowly stand and wipe your wet eyes on the back of your snow covered sleeve. Papyrus hovers nervously, shifting as if unsure how to continue.

“It seems I underestimated how unwell you are. I did not realise you were too weak for confrontations. I apologise.” His head hangs, skull contorted in shame and sorrow. Without the usual spike of anxiety, you nod in understanding, reaching up to offer a consoling pat upon the pauldron of his armour. He sighs and finally meets your eye, gazing through the soft shadows cast by your hood. His expression is torn between crinkling in concern and relaxing with relief.

“You should see a doctor. Your Soul- and, you can't react to an encounter-” He begins again, voice still eerily quiet. Sans breathes out heavily and his smile drops completely, though he does not appear angry.

“s’okay bro. no one could have known this would happen. you accept his apologies, right?” He turns to you, and Papyrus looks down in apprehensive expectation. You nod once more, words catching in your throat before you can voice them, so all that comes out is a strangled bleat.

“UH OH.” Papyrus looks nervously back to Sans, who offers a little shrug.

“why don't we catch later, see if grace is up to it so you guys can talk things through?” Sans tries not to let his voice shake. _That had been far too close…_ You nod again, seemingly oblivious that your cover had nearly been blown.

 

Sans and Papyrus are talking as you set a slow pace towards the gaping mouth of tunnel carved into the giant stone wall. Time bends and blends, offering small snapshots of scenes that don't quite match up, but you continue on regardless. Your feet operate independently from your brain: shoes hitting the cave floor with one in front of the other, and in front of the other, and in front of the other, and in front of the other. You walk ahead of Sans, though you can hear the tapping echo of his footsteps and the pitter-patter of the oncoming water that rains from the ceiling. You ignore the sign and the bucket of umbrellas, a little delirious and in awe of the strange and almost surreal underground flora. With deft movements, your hands moved autonomously to pluck and weave your bounty into a grand crown. The flowers are nothing like the white wisteria and hawthorn that seem to decorate your dreams, yet you hoped the bundle of glittery twigs and waxy leaves would help. Perhaps they would flip a switch inside and you would suddenly remember something useful, or at least give you a direction to help the aimless wandering of your thoroughly lost mind.

_Lost. So very lost. With only snippets of vague, clipped demands to guide you._

 

You wonder why so many mazes and puzzles litter the underground, and how the ever changing, stark contrasting environments shifted fluidly into one another. The air of the thin, dark hollow was dank and musty upon your nose. You paid no mind to the slime coated rocks as you pick tiny luminescent wall flowers, and boughs laden so heavily with mirror-coated blossoms that your head was soon wreathed in a circle of organic crystals and gem like blooms. The gentle weight upon your head is a familiar comfort, pressing down to keep you firmly grounded in reality, not allowing your mind to slip away and change into _something else._ The soft rustling of buds and vines by your ears serves to quieten the bubbling echoes of the dream’s demands that clung to your consciousness like an unwanted guest.

 

Petals shiver away from your circlet, clinging the curves of your shoulders and drifting to leave a dense train of colour the further you walk. Sans never spoke when you'd stop to add a sprig of pink ivy, or pausing to admire the neon blue waters, but the sound of his scuffling gate a few paces behind is oddly comforting in your placated state. It would have been too easy for you to imagine the noises as a predatorial stalk, but for now, you let it become reassuring white noise. True to the state of your mind, you were not sure of the way you were heading, simply letting your feet decide, yet certain Sans would quietly guide the way if you stray too far. Wooden planks groan and creak beneath your dense soles, but you no longer cared for the exit to the Pier Maze, nor the taped off section with the snapped floor boards. You're willfully ignorant the flashing LED sign, scrolling text and warning you of human activity in the area, instead wondering which new plants lay ahead.

 

 _You've never been this far before…_ A hot breeze suddenly clogs in your nose, carrying a handful of flowers away, and the gentle blues and greens of the cave systems is replaced with the unearthly glow of magma and blasting convection currents.

The air grew hotter still, stinking sulfur cloying in your face, forcing a trail of sticky pollen in your wake.

 

"nearly there.” Sans murmurs, happy to walk quietly by your side as a reassuring presence. Your footsteps falter as you come to an abrupt halt, chalky yellow pebbles crumbling underfoot and grinding against the rich maroon stone floor. The cave had opened up considerably, lit completely by the oozing rivers of white hot molten rock that surrounded each strip of solid land. The ragged walls of the room and the strange structures in the distance shimmered in a mirage of heat and vapour. You steered clear of the edge of the zigzagged walkway, watching thin black crusts form atop the surface of the glowing liquid. It was hypnotising, the flowing and chunky liquid bubbling, seeping and morphing without pattern, but you had to stop to blink away the ghostly white-light images in your vision. In the tranquil respite from your fearful thoughts, it had only just occurred to you that you had passed by many Monsters without qualm. Anxiety set in your gut like the churning magma below, and petals fluttered down to the pools, instantly charring against the surface in a puff of thick smoke and tainted colour.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first year of my degree will be wrapping up in a couple of weeks, so I'm drowning in final major projects and essays, which means I'll be even more delayed with chapters. Sorry! Thanks for your patience! :3
> 
> Anyway, we delve into Hotland, joining Sans at work, and revealing further memories and dreams of Grace's life upon the Surface! These mysteries will be answered, with approximately 15 Chapters left! I'm really looking forward to finally revealing some of these cryptic fucking plot points hahah!
> 
>  
> 
> There are plenty of intentional of parallels between the dreams/memories and reality in this transitional chapter: the flower crowns and imagery of natural flora, her Soul changing colour, always having someone around as a Guardian figure (though who's to say this is a good thing..?)
> 
> I think there are some errors with the tense and syntax in this chapter, but I'll edit it when I post the next half to Coffee-on-a-stick! Next time, we spend the day at work with Sans, talk him about our problems, and then some more smut! 
> 
> Come and say hi, talk about silly Undertale things, or ask questions about this fic over on [My Tumblr, Athenanuu](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com)


	31. Coffee-On-A-Stick: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans actually works and earns money, you learn more about Monster physiology and sociology, and you finally reveal what's been on your mind.

 

“ _kid_ !” Sans barked over the loudly bubbling pools of liquid sulphur, and your attention was stolen from the hypnotic swirls of magma and sheets of cooling crust. You staggered backwards, only just realising how close you had gotten to the edge of the embankment. You turn on your heal and scowl, glaring daggers at the Skeleton. You hated it when he called you _kid_ or _kiddo._ It made you feel small: incapable and naïve, or like you constantly needed a babysitter- and even though you knew he was there to help- you had voiced your displeasure on the multiple occasions whenever he slipped up with the condescending nickname. You fought back the urge to petulantly snap at him, for that would only serve to further his point, and finally you withdrew from the edge of the lava pool.

Sans huffed out a heavy sigh of relief, and when you caught up with the meandering pace he set, you wondered if he was sweating from the heat of the cavern or with anxious nerves. After a while of walking on aching, tired legs, your squinting eyes finally adjusted to the bright lights of the cavern. Though you much preferred Waterfall’s cool breezes and the gentle glow of pastel blue crystals, it was pleasant to feel heat on your snow chapped skin and a sunshine-esque glow upon your face. You found it strange that, despite the pools of liquid rock and metal and the blinding light that they gave off, the ceilings and far walls were still shrouded in darkness. You wondered what lurked within that gloom.

At the sound of approaching footsteps you peeked up through the curtain of your hair, having long abandoned the hood of your borrowed jacket to better bask in the light. A ginger bunny hopped along, and as they drew closer you thought that she looked dreadfully warm, with sweat matting into her dense fur. You suddenly felt very torn, but a hot, pulsating feeling with your chest forced your arms to move almost of their own accord. The Bunny smiled sweetly when you approached, and she thanked you considerably when you wordlessly offered her a bottle of water from Sans backpack. You gave her a shy smile as you hid your shaking hands deep within your pockets. Part of your tired mind _knew_ that you should be on guard and the thoughts quietly buzzed in the back of your skull wondering ‘ _what if something happens?’._

With a nod of resolution, you reasoned that you could not stand by idly if there was something you could do to ease someone's suffering, even if it was only a little, for it was not their fault that you were trapped down here, and it was certainly not their fault that you didn't know how to react.

With each Monster that passed, Sans’ stance tensed considerably. You were certain he was trying to maintain a casual facade, but after spending weeks together you were pretty confident at reading his body language beneath the oversized jacket and confident grin. He would only relax again when they were well out of sight and his eyes would occasionally flick to watch you. It was odd, but you were growing strangely unperturbed, just letting yourself enjoy the warmth, though the tremors that shook your hands were irritating. _Sans had assured that you wouldn't get hurt... Perhaps you were just tired?_

 

Gravel and grit in all shades of rust and maroon scraped underfoot, grinding loudly as you dragged your feet, but a sudden booming shook the cave and your heart thundered in your chest. You jolted, glancing around with wide, attentive eyes. Sans continued strolling along the thin stone walkway, but he did not seem to notice the rumbling nor your distress. You gaped at his nonchalance, walking with your shoulder bumping up against his side as if it would shield you from a potential cave-in.

“you know i won't let anyone hurt you, right?” He mumbled from the corner of his mouth, misreading your panic, and you watched the teeth part from their perfect wall of white as he spoke.

You nodded, still unable to voice that your concerns were a touch more pressing than your fear of the denizens of the Underground. That wouldn't matter at all if you were crushed beneath a falling rock, or trapped in a landslide. The cognitive dissonance became considerably more noticeable the longer you thought, walking on autopilot and allowing your mind to drift. You wondered how long Monsters had been trapped underground, and assumed they had become so used to random earthly tremors and noises that they barely noticed anymore. It was just a part of their everyday lives.

Another shower of fine dust settled across your shoulders and pulled your gaze up from the chalky russet sediment clinging to your shoes. The cave system had opened into a giant balloon of distant rocky walls, set aglow by the tiny rivulets of magma seeping through the cracks and joining the larger rivers below. Several gaping cracks in the ceiling allowed thick molten rock to flow through, oozing down in vast columns of light that the walkways avoided by twisted and circling in great swooping lines.

Vast stone pillars hung from the domed ceiling, poised like basilisk teeth and sharpened by the elements to crumbling, deadly points. Compared to the spindly daggers and tiny needlepoints of Waterfall’s stalactites, the jagged cones of rock that jutted out from Hotland’s ceiling were like immense red lances; as wide as houses and longer than any natural structure you had ever seen. Though they were few in numbers, the stalactites’ sheer sizes dominated the rock wall overhead. You walked further and the landscape began break up into taller and thinner paths made of natural rock shelves, all connected by thick wooden bridges, and in the distance you could make out the front of a large white building which rippled and hazed in the heat of the cave.

 

“and we're just on time.” Sans chuckled whilst checking an imaginary watch around his wrist. You were certain that he didn't even own a watch, yet he always knew how late for work he was. You followed his gaze to the path and paused, blinking in disbelief. You squinted, gawping as you tried to process the scene. It wasn't the strangest thing you had seen, but you couldn't help but stare at the wooden shack assembled on the side of the walkway.

“What..?” You croak out, very much confused.

“hm, don't go up there. s’dangerous.” He spoke without even looking up, too busy digging around in his many pockets.

“No. That!” you insisted, emphatically pointing to the thick blanket of snow atop the shack’s roof, despite the cave being hot enough to cause sweat to run down your back. Your brain twisted, confused by the  heat and the strange sight before you.

“oh, this old thing? it was just _chilling_ by the side of the road, so i thought it should be put to some use, ya’no. pretty _cool_ , huh?” His sharp teeth twisted into a wry grin as he pulled a small, tangled bundle of black fibres from his pocket. You leant against a solid wooden beam of the shack, watching him detangle the mess and you tried not to laugh when the small bones of his fingers snagged against the threads. Finally, Sans managed to stretch the tight hair net across the top of his skull and you cackled out with unexpected glee. The strap of Sans’ backpack slips from your shaking shoulder and you held your floral circlet to your head to stop it from tumbling to the ground as you laughed.

Sans mumbled, “food hygiene,” and pastel blue spread across the delicate, pale ridges of his nose and cheekbones. Tears ran down your cheeks as you clutched at your stomach, and you were unsure whether the bashful blush was genuine, or it was all a part of the sight gag. It felt good to laugh again.

“Oh my goddess.” You wheezed, fingers digging into the wooden shelf for support.

Sans rolled the lights of his eyes as you continued giggling until you were out of breath. He pulled out a stool from the open back of the desk, and patted the countertop for you to take a seat. Wiping tears from your eyes, you perched upon the desk and you caught your breath.

“you finished?” He drawled, and you gave him a pleased grin and a dramatic sigh in response. You crossed your ankles and rested back on your hands as you watched him pull out metallic black trays, several handmade wooden signs, a ceramic bowl of nondescript white powder, and finally a glass jar filled with shiny coins.

“You left the cash box behind? It's practically full!” You squealed with the remnants of breathless laughter, though you were attempting to voice concern.

“uh, yeah. i can't be bothered draggin’ it home everyday, plus i have holes in, like, all my pockets so the change would just fall out.” he shrugged and resumed setting up a folding blackboard menu with a barely legible price list written in yellow chalk. With an incredulous look, you made a point of unzipping his bag and digging around the contents. In the weeks following your duffel bag’s disappearance you had taken to carrying his green one, toting around your remaining odds and ends. It was a strange ritual, but clasping your compact sewing kit in your pocket somehow kept you grounded. It was a familiar comfort, and you enjoyed the practicality of it. You offered to patch up the holes in his pocket, saying that Papyrus would probably like to help. He nodded, but his expression remained mostly confused.

“There's over 100 Gold in there! You're not worried someone would steal it?” You raise your eyebrows up high at his uneasy smile.

“why would they do that?” He sputtered, sounding almost offended that you'd ask such a thing.

You stayed quiet for a moment, humming in contemplation. “I guess things really are different down here. Where I'm from, all that money would be gone in a heartbeat.”

“heh, the culture shock just gettin’ to ya, huh?” Sans chuckled, “i guess we don't really need the excessive wealth, just enough to be comfortable. might sound a bit strange considerin’ how reliant you guys are on gold and material goods, but that marx guy had the right idea.”

You shrugged, “That stuff tends to work better on paper, I think.” Sans’ eyes shimmer brighter when you understand the reference. You continued, a little apprehensive. “But, uh, you guys still have bills, and families to take care of. What happens if you can't afford it?”

“for starters we have this huge machine, the core, that literally powers the entire underground: geothermic energy converted to a mix of electricity and raw magic, and that ain't a commodity so doesn't cost us anything. we've got plenty of access to water, and gold for days, but if someone needs something we all work together to help. villages raise kids, school isn't about pumping out a labour force - besides the royal guard o’course - and teaching focuses on social skills and citizenship. jobs pay people enough, which helps other businesses because, hey, who doesn't like disposable income? not to mention everyone has dedicated skills that they offer others if they need that help, and they get other stuff in return, like stuff they need or food. all kinda works out. we _are_ built from compassion and whatnot.”

“Sounds rather utopian, but I guess you guys have different prerogatives and more important things to worry about.” You pick at a small circle of knotted wood on the countertop. He gave a knowing nod.

“that ain't to say crime is nonexistent, and there's a lot of stagnant souls down here who need help, but we get the job done.”

You nod, absorbing the new information like a sponge. “I think with communal families, you're more adjusted when you grow up. Something about more social interaction in your developing years, maybe?” You felt a little bad that you hadn't really taken much time to learn about Monster life, you had simply been thrown into the deep end. _Maybe there are some history books around?_

“What's a stagnant Soul?” You ask, absentmindedly thinking about the Library you had passed on Snowdin’s Tree Plaza.

Sans appeared too engrossed in his work to reply. You repeated the question a little louder, and he merely furrowed his brow bone. His tongue was peeking out from between his teeth as he scribbled on a weighty wooden board, which had been messily coated in thick blackboard paint.

“‘Coffee On A Stick’?” You read one of the signs aloud. Sans finally gave an emphatic nod as he propped the sign atop the shack. His skeletal fingers quickly lined up polystyrene cups into long, neat rows. You peer closer, quirking your head at the wooden popsicle sticks poking out of the dark, rich coffee. One row of coffee had frozen solid, though several cups had thawed back to lukewarm slush. Sans plucked up a frozen hunk by its stick, and it pulled free from the polystyrene cup. He waved the strange popsicle at you, but as soon as it came into contact with the warm, dry air beyond the shack the coffee began to melt and drip.

“want one? it's on the house.” He offered in a singsong voice, winking to seal the deal. “i mean literally _on_ the house, this thing is drippin’ all over the counter. please take it: i think you need a n _ice_ pick-me-up.”

You squeak out a ‘thank you’ as you tugged off your jacket and draped it across your lap. Sans carefully rolled the frozen coffee hunk in the white powder and handed it over. The icy treat was rich and sweet, and gave a welcome reprieve from the heat of the cavern.

“Oh, it's powdered sugar! I was beginning to think it was cocaine or something” You laugh nervously in between licks.

“cocaine, as in the drug? heh, nah s’just swamp-cane sugar, _sweet_ heart. i don't think those things affects monsters the same way it does humans, but there are some pretty nasty substances around.”

“Hmm?” You frown a little in question, wiping away cold drips from your chin.

“unless there's magic mixed in, i think it would just pass straight through a monster’s system. we can eat human food but it doesn't really offer the energy we need to live, kinda like how _you_ need human food to live, but magic just… ‘tops up’ your energy? we need that magic in the food because it's _our_ form of energy.”

“Do you cast magic onto it when you make the food?” You ask curiously.

“nah, it’s ambient.” He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain. You gesture wildly with your free hand for him to continue.

“what i'm trying to say is some substances- like plants or minerals- have been around magic for so long that their genetic makeup starts to change. some things are actively embedded with magic, like to selectively change crops and shit, but the natural exposure to old magic in the air has longer term effects. like those glowing crystals, or stuff used in monster foods.”

“Old magic?” You lick clumps of sugar from the corner of your mouth, and Sans watched your tongue as it moves across your lips.

“huh?” He grunted, staring at your mouth.

“What do you mean ‘old magic in the air’? Where does it come from?” You playfully stick your tongue out as you notice his gaze.

“hm, so you know how monsters are made of magic?” He began again, and you made a seesaw motion with your hand: the concept was still new to you, but you were learning. “well we take in magic, absorbed through food or ambient sources in the air. that’s used for making up our physical forms, healing, communicating, or casting magic and weapon summoning. that sorta thing. the magic that’s used up is expelled through breathing or shedding, like your gross dead skin cells.” He pretended to gag in disgust.

You appreciated how he tried to make the explanation relatable, and you loved the way his speech had sped up: annunciation growing more precise despite how excited he got. Your stomach bubbled like the lava pits whenever he went off on passionate, rambling tangents.

“so magic is energy, and even though it’s ‘used’ and expelled, it's still energy. it can't be made or destroyed, so it just hangs around. conservation of energy, thermodynamics, that sorta stuff. it has nowhere to go because- well, i dunno yet- but there's all this research going on, well, there _was! before-_ where was i? oh! so the plants and stuff can use this depleted energy and they change it into a different form, and _then_ monsters use them as food.. or in this case, noxious substances.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you're dumbing this down for me?” You chuckle, but began to lose track as he gestured and waved his arms around whilst talking about the conservation of energy and laws of the universe that you did not understand. He finally caught your slightly overwhelmed expression and shyly looked down, kicking a small pebble away from his chair.

“sorry, this stuff is pretty boring if you're not interested in the science of-”

You cut him off, “No, no! It's fascinating! Yeah, it's a bit confusing and new and a lot of it went over my head, but you looked so happy that I couldn't bring myself to interrupt. I never knew how amazing you all are. Like your physiology is so different to humans, but… kinda the same. Parallel, I guess? How the hell do you know all of this?” The words gush out of your mouth before you can stop them, and the bubbling in your stomach turns to a pure boiling rumble when Sans’ cheekbones flush a delicate blue. He rested his head against your arm, trying to catch his breath a little.

You slurped the melted coffee and sticky, crystallising sugar from your knuckles. The sugar fizzed upon your tongue like carbonated soda pop, and there was a subtle taste beneath it all of something you could not place.

“This is surprisingly good.” You casually changed the topic to something that your sleepy brain could actually handle. _When you were feeling better, you'd definitely tell Sans to given you an in depth lesson on Monster physiology._

“aww, ain't you _sweet_ ?” Sans drawled, and the lights of his eyes sparkled with mischief and mirth. “ _ice_ -ure hope this means you'll give me a good tip: the average is 15 _purse_ \- _cent!”_

Your eyes narrowed wearily as crunch upon the last bite of your treat. You brandish the stick, muttering “Don't you dare.”

“oh _brewtiful_ , that _bitter_ look doesn't suit you.” He dropped his elbows on the counter and smiled up at you.

“No.” You warn, prodding his shoulder.

“oh _shot_ , will i be in _hot water_ if i keep this up?”

“ _Ugh_!”

“sugar, words cannot _espresso_ how much you _bean_ to me.”

He smiles sweetly but you simple couldn't take him seriously with the _stupid_ hair net draped across his head.. You tried to keep a straight face as you groaned, “These jokes aren't my cup of tea.”

“heh, neat.” He snorted, and in one swift motion with a nimble skeletal hand, he snatched the used coffee stirrer and threw it over his shoulder into the bubbling lava pits. It crackled as it floated atop the river of magma, eventually charring to a deep brown before bursting into flames. You shuddered at the sight of the ash blowing up in small black clouds before the larger chunks of charcoal sunk beneath the surface.

 

Loud voices echoed from a distance along the walkway, and your attention was stolen away by the metallic ringing that marked the approach of multiple heavy footsteps.

Sans closed his eyes as he rested his chin in his hands, and you nervously pluck flowers from your crown, weaving them through the black netting around his head. As the dark figures come closer, you'd successfully threaded wilting pink dandelions through the gaps until Sans was sporting his own, albeit sparse, circlet of flowers. For a moment, you wished you had your phone to take a picture. The grin stretching at your cheeks hurt, but it was satisfying.

“BRO! It's the Skeledude!” One of the Monsters hollered to their friend, who walked in synchronized steps, shoulder to shoulder.

“Like, excellent! Nice hat Skeleman!” The other whooped in response.

You jump, not noticing how close the pair had gotten. Your body automatically freezes, your hand clutching hard against Sans’ shoulder as you stare at the longswords sheathed against their hips, and their black armour glittering in the light of the magma. Sans lazily opens an eye, watching them closely.

“s’okay, they're cool. i’m here.” He mumbled from the corner of his mouth in a soft, reassuring whisper. His smile grows as their forms finally emerge from the heat-haze. Despite sitting on the counter right next to Sans’ goods, they barely seem to take note of you; too enamoured in their own conversation.

“Dude?” the one with the pair of giant fluffy ears unfurling from the top of their helmet turned to his friend.

“Bro?” The other guard’s spikes bristle, and they wait apprehensively.

“It's my turn to buy today, yeah?” The guard with the long ears asks, their deep and masculine voice somewhat muffled behind the grill of their thick helmet.

“If- if you want t- I mean, no, I'll get it!” Their friend rasped undecidedly.

“But you always buy me treats.” The Rabbit guard insisted, and carefully places two round golden coins on the wooden countertop. Your grip upon Sans’ bony shoulder remained tight, and adrenaline coursed through your limbs as you prepare to run, but you fight through your fear and offer a tiny smile.

“yo, 01, 02. you guys on a coffee break?” Sans asked, craning his neck to look up at the towering guards.

“Well, like, not for another few minutes.” The lizard Monster shrugged.

“But you've been guarding really really hard today Bro. You know you can't overwork or overheat yourself, or your health gets bad and, like, our standards slip.” The eared one affectionately patted a heavy gauntlet upon his friend’s pauldron covered shoulder.

Sans gestured to his headgear of flowers and flora, “yeah, you guys should take a _leaf_ outta my book, and have more standardised breaks than work time.” His chuckle was deep and rumbling, and you could feel the vibrations as you hung onto his bones. He scooped the coins into his money jar and held up two cups of coffee for the guards.

“you take sugar?” He nodded to the bowl of white powder.

“Nah, we’re sweet enough, dude.” The guards reply in sync, and through the haze of your fear you could make out blushing cheeks behind their metal visors.

“HAH, like, jinx! You owe me a Nicecream!” They say at the same time, laughing.

“Oh no, Dude!”

“What is it Bro?”

“That's the fifth time this has happened today.”

Sans’ eyes grew brighter and sparkled with mischief as he smirked at the pair, “well, you know what they say?”

“No? Who said what?” The lizard asked.

“great minds think a _like_.” He winked. The guards began laughing again.

“Excellent.”

“Dude. A science bro totally called us smart!”

“Bro, let's go take our break near the lab, and we can tell Alphys that someone recognises our smarts!”

“Rad! Thanks, Skeledude!”

“Thanks, Tiny Fleshy Skeledude!” They both waved to you.

 

Sans waved as the pair strolled away, lifting the hinged grills of their helmets to eat the iced treats. He shrugged a little, jostling your arm that was still firmly attached to his shoulder.

You blinked down at him before quickly peeling your hands away, “Oh, s-sorry.” You let out a nervous bubble of laughter, wiping your sweaty palms on your knees.

“ya’no, you'll need to get used to being around monsters if you're wanting to live down here.” He stated, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “i'm constantly worried when you're around other monsters because you don't know what to do.”

“You haven't really been a great teacher in that regard. But it's clearly something I have to unlearn, so least appreciate that it's going to take some time.” Your whispering bordered upon hissing as stress tumbled in your gut, “And it's not like I have a choice but to learn how to blend in amongst Monsters.”

Your jaw snapped shut with a _click,_ forcing yourself to be quiet, for you both knew you had another choice, but you were not sure whether you were ready to speak it aloud. Acid burnt the back of your throat and suddenly you were so, so tired.

“what's eatin’ at ya? seems like something’s been on your mind for a while now.” He forced a reassuring smile, but in your eyes it looked too tight, too wide. You stared ahead, gazing off into the dark distance, trying to ignore Sans’ fidgeting in the corner of your vision.

“I'm so confused.” You confessed in a whisper, scarcely audible over the broiling lava streams. “I don't know what to do.”

“what dya mean?”

“I'm stuck having forgotten who I am, and what's waiting above for me.” You picked at the wood beneath your palms until your fingertips were riddled with splinters. “I suppose that's a blessing because I don't know exactly that I left behind, so surely I can't miss it, right? Right?! I think- and I've had a lot of time to think- that it's for the best, but the unknown is utterly destroying me. What's above? What's going to happen to me? Will this all work out? What's beyond, waiting in Asgore’s castle? I feel it _pulling me_ towards it, constantly calling to me, urging me to go and get them, get them, get them-”

“kid-”

“But that's not the worst part- I'm faced with this.. this horrible choice. You'd think that anyone in this situation would do whatever they could to get out, claw out of this fucking mountain if they had to, but I can't.” Your voice broke, cracking with the emotions that you were so desperately trying not to collapse under, and you held a hand to your chest. “I wish, oh how I wish I could bring myself to do whatever I could to leave- if only it didn't mean that I'd have to kill someone. There's this force deep within me that means it isn't an option, nor will it ever be. But some days I wish it was.” Your voice was growing shrill and manic, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from the petals fluttering across the ground, before they tumbled into the lava below. Tears threatened, clinging to your eyelashes.

“kid?”

“And when I think about it too much I have these dreams, where these lights are hovering just beyond reach and I _have_ to keep chasing them, I don't have a choice, but they're barely shining anymore behind these glass walls. Sometimes they're stuck in holes in the ground, like graves. I can't break through the marble stone or metal lids because I'm too weak, I can't reach them, and I can't tell whether they're stars or Souls but they're screaming so loudly! It won't stop, and they keep urging me on to find them.” Your vision was blurred with tears and ghostly after-images from staring at the bright magma’s light for for too long. “I… I get the feeling I should stop looking for them, or something bad will happen. But at the same time, I think something bad will happen if I give up. If I- if I just stop trying to do something- anything!- I think that'll be the end for me.”

You blinked, forcing back the tears. You knew it would only serve to dehydrate you further.

“i won't let you fall down.” He whispered. “i’ll help, whatever you decide to do.”

“I already fell, and I don't know if I'll ever remember, regardless of the choices I have to make.”

Boney fingers clutched at yours, stopping you from tearing your skin against the sharp wood.

 

“I'm going to die down here, Sans.”

 

He sighed, but you dared not look.

 

“we all are.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aliiivvveee!  
> This chapter fought me so damned hard, but it's all important expositional stuff to set up for later T,T"
> 
> The ending was NOT supposed to be depressing at all, but I needed it to flow nicely into the next chapter, in which we will learn about dream-journals, confrontations, and whats going on with your Soul. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :) Feel free to comment and ask questions, or come say Hi over at [My Tumblr, Athenanuu!](http://athenanuu.tumblr.com)


	32. The Art of Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy. Moly.  
> So life kicked my ass again, but I'm back. Like... 4 months later. Uh oh.
> 
> This chapter has been sat in my "final edit" folder for-fucking-ever, but it's finally here! Though it might as well be called "Chapter 32: So Much Exposition/What A Surprise: Reader is Angsty"  
> I even had to cut the chapter in two to make it easier to read.
> 
> I'm so sorry for the unplanned hiatus! Sometimes life just feels the need to punch you in the face and steal your lunch money, but I'm in a much more stable place and able to get back to writing. Yay!
> 
> Thank you for your patience, your views, comments and kudos. You guys really motivate me to keep my writing going and I love you all.
> 
> I'll also be updating my other Undertale work: "Life in the Doll House" soon, so if you like Gaster/Reader and cute babybones AU, keep an eye out for the next chapter!

 

Sans finally relinquished his grip on your hand when a group of bright red kangaroo Monsters bounced up to the shack, with their flaming tails bobbing happily behind them. Happy to have an audience, Sans threw out his usual puns and even ones you hadn't heard before- “fancy an ice cold cup of _joey?”-_ grinning and winking as he joked, and thanking them for their custom as they departed. However, as soon as his customers rounded the nearest bend and walked out of view, he dropped back into an uncomfortable silence. He was clearly deep in thought as he stared down into the magma pools, the white pips of his eyes looking hazy and swamped within the endless black of his sockets.

Guilt niggled at the back of your mind as you stole glances at his stern expression. Combined with the adrenaline from your almost manic outburst, it all left you feeling rather nauseous. Most of all, you felt terrible for putting Sans through so much stress. He was putting so much at risk to help you. He hadn't asked for this, just as you hadn't.

You opened and closed your mouth several times, looking for the right words to break the silence.

“They- the monsters… they seem nice and, uh, no one’s really noticed me.” Your words trailed off when you realised how lame that sounded out loud.

Despite his silence, the corner of Sans’ mouth quirked into a faint smile. After a moment his shoulders slumped to rest bis elbows on the coubtertop, and he raised his brow-bone as if to say _‘I told you so!’_

“Though I'm not really looking forward to explaining everything to Papyrus.” You huffed in a way that you hoped seemed aloof, but you were just looking to get the topic over with as swiftly as possible, and hopefully dispel the noxious tension- _or was that just the sulfur in the air_?

You were sure that Sans had picked up on your apprehension, if your subconscious tooth-grinding and nail-tapping was anything to go by. You stopped yourself on several occasions when you noticied the little tics and twitches, but as soon as your attention was diverted away the habits picked up again. He shot you the occasional glance, staring at your fingers as you tap-tap-tapped away.

“you don't have to do that, ya’no.”

“Do what?” You still couldn't bring yourself to meet his eye. _Guilty._

“try and do everything yourself. s’what i’m here for: to help.” His smile grew crooked, but his expression remained sombre.

You slid from the countertop and gently stretched your legs. You couldn't stop fidgeting, plagued with the need to keep moving.

You drew a deep breath in through your nose, puffing out your chest as air filled your lungs. Behind your back you heard the scraping of the stool's feet upon the rocky floor but you tried to focus upon simply breathing.

_1… 2… 3… 4..._

The tension began to unwind from your shoulders as you held the air in, and slowly forced it back out.

_1… 2… 3… 4..._

“He's going to kill me.” You snorted at the absurdity of Papyrus doing anything remotely menacing, but then you remembered the dogged determination sparkling in his eyes when he ambushed you. It was chilling to experience the wave upon wave of magical energy surging against your Soul, almost as if it were looking for something. You hoped to never face him like that again.

“I thought he was going to, back by the river. Whatever that was, it was terrifying.”

“he'll probably kill _me_ for keeping secrets.” Sans halfheartedly joked as he packed away the empty cups and the jar of coins.

“Why didn't you ever tell him about the...” You glanced around, before dropping your voice to a whisper. “human thing? Lying like this makes my chest ache.”

“to be honest, i’m surprised he hasn't noticed yet. not that i think he's inattentive- kinda the opposite really- but he's far too trusting. i don't want you setting up his expectations of humans, because he might think you're all patient and friendly. the next one to fall might not be as kind, and i wouldn't be able to live with myself if he got hurt.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” You moved around the back of the kiosk, helping to put away the sugar bowl and pull down the signs “But why keep him in the dark about us?”

“mainly for your sake.” You pulled a puzzled face at his words, “if you decided against it, i knew paps would keep asking questions and i wouldn't want it to make you uncomfortable.”

“How are you always so considerate?”

You reached down to store away the gleaming metallic trays, but it took your brain a moment too long to drop them back onto the counter. The pain suddenly caught up with your preoccupied thoughts.

“AH!” You gripped around your wrist with you unburned hand. “Fuck, how did that get so hot without this shit melting?” You angrily gestured to the snow and leftover iced treats.

Sans sucked in a breath through his teeth. “magic?” He offered in an attempt consolation whilst quickly stashing away the wooden stool.

You gave a dry and sardonic laugh.

“Very funny, the silly human hasn't gotten used to magic yet.” Unwelcome tears began prickling at your eyes.

“you know i didn't mean it like that.” He peered down, wincing at the reddening skin on the palm of your hand. “you okay, kiddo?”

“I have a name!” You ground out. “Ah, that hurts, but I don't think it's too bad.” The line of welts across your fingertips smarted, “I'll just stick my hand in some snow on the way back.”

“c’mon, we've got this magical new thing called running water. i’ll take you to the employee break room.” He began, ushering you along by the small of your back. You sighed, trying not to let the heat and pain make you irritable, and you dutifully walked on.

 

 

“jeez, how come you're always getting hurt? even babybones aren't this clumsy!” He joked, trying to lift your spirits. It wasn't his fault that the statement made you angry. Guilty. You'd never voiced your concerns of feeling like a dead weight; useless and requiring constant surveillance. Weak.

"I think I'm just tired." You grumbled.

"tired? but you've slept for, like, 2 days. don't get me wrong, i love naps as much as the next guy, but it's like you're sick."

You shrugged and mused, "Maybe I am: it might be a sunlight thing. Humans need it to make and help absorb vitamins, or something? I don't remember exactly."

"no wonder your thinking has been all foggy recently. human biology is weeiird."

“At least _this_ time it was my fault: it's like an oven in here, so I should’ve stopped to think that the trays could've been hot.” You plucked at the neck of your shirt with your safe hand, trying to force gusts of air down your sweating back.

“this time?” The Skeleton asked hesitantly.

“Hah, I don't think you'd believe me if I told you.” You shrugged. You didn’t really want to talk about it, but you felt like you owed him some kind of explanation as to why he was constantly patching you up.

“try me! tell you what: if you tell me what happened, i’ll be the one who explains everything to my bro. he’ll be cool, i just know it.” He perked up a little, stepping into line by your side wherever the walkways allowed it.

You hesitated a little, “Oh, well okay. That sounds like a good deal to me.” You really, really, really didn't want to try and explain things to Papyrus.

Sans winked, “trust me, i've had plenty of time to master the art.”

That only made you think of the age gap between yourself and your skeletal companion. Many Monsters lived far beyond the range of a Human’s lifespan, and some have lived for thousands of years. You flushed at the thought. W _hat would your mother think?_

...What _would_ your mother think? You pondered again, trying to put a face to the static-ridden image that was hurled from the depths of your mind whenever you thought of your life above. There was nothing you could place about her. No name, personality, nor age. _Surely_ you had a mother? Everyone had a mother, for goodness sake!

Sans looked at you expectantly, one bony brow raised as he waited.

You exhaled slowly, trying to clear your thoughts.

“Have you ever heard of a talking flower?”

Sans stumbled a little over the loose pebbles, choking out his words, “yeah; echo flowers. duh.”

“No! Not them, they're not even sentient. At least.. I don't think they are?” The thick planks of wood creaked and groaned beneath your feet, yet the rope bridge barely swung or moved. You assumed magic kept them securely in place and protected them from the roaring heat of bubbling pools below. You wheezed, and your throat was suddenly feeling dry.

“I don't know where to begin.” You admitted with reluctance, as your thoughts were a constant and directionless stream. This often happened when you tried to think too hard, trying to recall what you had forgotten.

“the beginning is a good place, if any, to start.”

And so you began. You told Sans everything. You tried to build bridges across the cloying, black spaces of emptiness within your memories, and you were left with the feeling that you were beginning again; moving beyond what you were before, starting afresh deep beneath the soil and rock. You told him of the fall, how you could physically feel that thoughts and memories were leaving your mind- until you only think of the dark tunnel and your inevitable death. You told him of the flower, the yellow tickseed and their warped little grin, and how you were saved from their wrath. Tears formed in your eyes, but they were quickly evaporated by the intense heat of the cavern. You could not bring yourself to speak Toriel’s name: just an anonymous kindly Monster in the ruins that healed your wounds and helped put your Soul at ease.

You found yourself being forced to remember her angry tears and her warnings, and you spoke of the soft motherly presence that became smothering and claustrophobic. You rushed through how you had discovered Asgore’s plan and your burning fury at the thought of letting those children die. You admitted that you felt a strange kinship with the lost children, and couldn't understand the grief that built up inside your chest when you thought of their Souls locked away in a dark and hidden place, with no chance to move on. You told him of things that plagued your dreams: a halo of bullets circling your head, dancing until your feet bled in a classroom filled with snickering and wimpering children, the punishments, a woman with a veiled face and antlers sprouting from her head, who cast magic that bore painfully within your Soul; fighting your way through an endless pile of ash and dust, and the same yellow flower coming back to spit venom and injure you further. You spoke of the recurring, sickly urge that pushed you, telling you to _get to the Wall_. You needed to. You _would go go go GO  GO GO GO_ ** _GO GO GO_** **_GO_** _-_

“Deep within my heart, I know one day I will get there.” You sighed, resolute. “As much as it plagues me, like some sick obsession, it seems to be one of the only things that keeps me going some days. I _will_ get there.”

You felt as if you had been speaking and walking for hours as your throat was parched and your legs ached, yet strangely you had barely made it to the next bridge. The beginnings of a headache were knocking at your temples, and you were certain you could see your vision distorting in the corner of your eye, but that could've easily been heat haze... _Right?_

You glanced over your shoulder and sure enough the snow covered shack was still in view, though only just.

“how can you be so sure?” Sans asked curiously, speaking for the first time since you began your story.

“My dreams. I’m terrified of what I see when I sleep, yet I am certain they're trying to tell me something.” It had taken you a long while to come to terms with that revelation, but for now you were certain they were messages; memories, warnings, some hidden meaning bubbling forth from your subconscious mind. Yet you just weren't quite sure what they were trying to tell you.

“huh. kinda sounds like seeing magic. some monsters call them ‘oracles’. it's a rare magic without physical attack, like it's inert. as far as we can tell it's not hereditary, and only one in several thousand are born with it. they have visions of what might happen in the future, what's happening now on the other side of the underground. unfortunately they can't see beyond the barrier, and even then it's vague. i guess futures are never concrete; simple actions can have massive effects and change everyuthing.” He tapped a finger contemplatively against his chin.

“How do you know so much?” You gawp, having rarely heard Sans speak so articulate.

He shrugs and slouches forward as he walks. “part of the job i guess?”

“Job?” You only had a vague idea of the other places Sans worked. None of them immediately jumped out as a place he'd need to know strangely specific Monster magic data.

“eh, it isn't really important anymore. that's just random facts and figures i picked up a long time ago from a doctor friend who specialises in teratology- monster studies, essentially.” He avoided your gaze and pushed his hands further into his pocket. “but it comes in handy if you've got abilities like that!”

“I don't think it's anything as grand as that. I don't think I'd like to make that much of an impact.” You shrugged dismissively, “Besides, humans don't have magic.” You reminded him, stepping aside the remnants of a large, crushed boulder and the crumbled end of a stalactite.

“hm, in the past human magic wasn't uncommon! like before the war, and obviously during the war, but i guess it's faded now. maybe there's magic potential still left up there somewhere? maybe i could…” He trailed off, too busy navigating the path ahead as he scribbled within his notebook that you had only just noticed. _Where did it come from? It was far too large to fit in his shorts, or jacket pocket._

“uh, that's a thought for later.” He said as he noticed your suspicious gaze. “so, your leg? you said it wasn't your fault ‘this time’?”

“To be honest, I barely remember the day that I fell from the Pier Maze, just like other times my mind… changed. What little I remember is fogged and blurry like a bad dream. However, the longer I'm down here, and every step further that I take towardsthe Wall, the more I remember. Sometimes those memories are twisted, like the fluidity of dreams, yet sometimes they're so vivid that they can't be anything but reality. I have this gut feeling that they are just that: real. I have to learn to trust my instincts.”

“uh, i guess it's good that you're remembering more, though i don't like where you're going with that thought. it's too dangerous.” the skeleton Monster scolded. “but i’m not following: _what_ happened?”

You choked. The memory tightened your throat, suddenly unable to get the words out. You gestured down towards your dusty shoes. “My leg. The metal- It was a Monster.”

“a monster?” Sans’ browbone dipped in confusion.

“Yes.”

"what?! monsters are literally made of hope. their bullets and attacks are manifestations of- no way they'd use… but their love!” Sans garbled as a sickened feeling settled deep within his chest. His words were all over the place and it was strange to see him so off kilter.

Your shoes crunched across gravel and rust, but the feeling of stones poking into your soles was lost to your thoughts. Perhaps you were so used to the violence that humans could inflict upon others that you'd become desensitised, but to Monsters the very thought of it was something abhorrent and improbable.

“who was it? i need to tell…” He trailed off again, looking conflicted and disgusted all at once. The slight glow of his eyes was so dim that they nearly seemed extinguished.

“I don't know.” You sighed, thoroughly expecting him to brush you off. “A flower. Small. Yellow. Unassuming.”

“a flower? ya mean like bigmouth? he’s a foul mouthed idiot when he's drunk, but not violent: wouldn't hurt a fly-monster!” He insisted, “bigmouth. ya’no, giant green plant, no eyes, mostly teeth and lips? tiny little legs?”

“M-Maybe? I don't know. They… their face changed-” You began, but Sans’ muttering cut you off.

“no, couldn't be him. he was still at grillby’s when i checked there. no way he would've been able to get to you before i did. besides, he's slower than a garbage slug and twice as stupid.” Seemingly brought out of his stupor he stopped in the middle of a bridge and turned to you. You fought the urge to look down past the gaps in the planks at the boiling red liquid below.

“what did your soul look like when he started the confrontation and attacked? did it look different than before?” He asked.

“Confrontation? I don't know what that is.” You balked in confusion. “I thought it was a nightmare until I finally stood up. It attacked me whilst I was weak, falling in and out of consciousness.” You tried to put into words the snippets of images and senses that you could remember, ignoring the phantom pains that spasmed across your muscles.

“My Soul was pulled out after it stuck the metal in my leg. There was only mine floating there, yet no darkness or- or bullets. I couldn't see much, but I could feel it. It touched my- I felt so sick, and it hurt so much. The monster taunted me, hurt me, and spoke of the strangest things: ‘It's always the same ending’” You shook your head. “I have no idea what that could possibly mean, but for some strange reason it was adamant about it.”

“that's impossible.” Sans’ eye sockets were wide open in shock, and nausea tinged his white bones a faded grey. "why would it touch your soul?"

“I'm sure that's what happened!” Your teeth ground together with frustration.

You stared up at Sans with your arms crossed indignantly against your chest. He still looked frozen with shock, and for a moment you were worried. You'd never seem him so afraid before.

“that's impossible.” He repeated, knuckles clicking as he clenched and unclenched his fists. “it doesn't work that way, we can't attack without our souls."

“Why are we even arguing about this? It's not getting us anywhere, and your constant reminders of what is supposedly impossible does not change what happened to me. I want to know who it was just as badly as you do, and I need to make sure they don't hurt anyone else! But most importantly, I want to keep going.”

You clutch your unburned hand to you chest. The lines of welts across your fingertips pulsed with a dull and constant pain. The thought of easing the ache spurred your legs back into action, and you walked ahead. Luckily the area was devoid of life: just you, Sans, and the occasional drying petal tumbling from the crown about your head. _You'd almost forgotten about it._

“you do have an astounding amount of integrity, after all.” He chuckled, suddenly inches behind you, “barely a hint of anything else in there.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, watching the path and bridges ahead.

“‘means you put a lot of _heart_ into everything.” A grin was plastered across his face as you watched from the corner of your eyes. There was a joke in there somewhere, you just didn't understand the context. Your expression must have given that thought away as Sans rolled his eye lights in mock frustration.

“oh stars, i have a lot to teach you.”

“Well I don't have any other options.” With a heavy sigh, you wiped the sweat from your brow on the sleeve of your shirt, and shoved your hands into your pockets despite the rough fabric against your fingers. The rest of your journey was made in relative quiet, and strangely your destination seemed to speed up as you fell into the silence of your own thoughts.

 

 

“we’re here!” He leaned casually against the beaten-up shell of a water cooler, and jerked his thumb to the large, full bottle on top, “the employee break room!”

You blinked up at the Monster, wondering if it was an elaborate set up for a joke. You looked around the relatively small rocky outcrop jutting from the side of the cavern wall. All you could see were pebbles, a large boulder, a bridge, and an oddly out of place water cooler pressed up against the wall.

“why don't you rinse off? don’t want anything to get infected.” he lightly tapped one of the blue coloured valves. 

Your thirst and pain overpowered your confusion, and you helped yourself to one of the plastic cups stacked on the side of the cooler. The water never seemed to drain, so you drank until your stomach felt cool and full. After gently dabbing some cold water across your face you refilled the cup and carefully dipped your fingers into the water. It was a bit of a squeeze trying to fit the entirety of the burnt line in, but the cold helped immediately. You gave a blissful sigh as the chill seeped into your skin.

“why don't you take a seat so i can explain some things?” Sans pointed to a large boulder with a flat top. You nodded and wondered how long it had taken for the rock’s surface to be worn smooth by weary travellers looking for a comfortable perch.

“better?” Sans asked softly as he smiled down at you.

“Getting there.” You tried to shrug without spilling water over yourself.

“okay, so admittedly it's a little weird trying to explain something that's just a normal and daily part of life for us, and i should have done this sooner.” He began, leaning further against the water cooler with his elbow hooked around the top of the jug. “guess i should explains the ‘why’s first, and then the ‘how’s. ya’no, they say a good scientist can explain even the most complex of theories to a toddler-”

You gestured your free hand for him to get on with it.

“right, right! so i’m sure you've noticed that unlike humans, who are so genetically identical, monsters have a huge physiological variance?” He looks at you expectantly, but you just raise a brow.

“right, toddler explanations, yeah. humans pretty much all look the same, but monsters all look really, really different.” He supplies, and you nod as you finally understand. “good! even though there are branches and categories of similar monsters, there's not even a guarantee that coupling monsters of the same subspecies will create the same type of offspring. sometimes they are identical to the previous generation, sometimes it's a wildcard and a mishmash of other parts, and sometimes it's a type so entirely new that we've never seen it before.”

You think you're following so far, so you nod again.

“because of these huge differences in monsters, you can imagine that communication can be difficult. there's the different languages, some don't even have capabilities of auditory language like mouths or tongues. instead they have chemicals and pheromones, or colour changes and flashing lights. i guess somewhere along the line- maybe hundreds of thousands of years ago- there was some kind of evolutionary pressure for a way of communicating that all types of monsters would understand. we can ‘hear’ what they're saying with our souls, but as a result us monsters are very good at mimicking, to a certain degree, to help ease the boundaries for communication and, uh, coupling-”

“Mimicking?” You chirp up, a little confused.

“yeah! ya’no, copying. like if i was talking to a moldsmall i’d maybe wiggle a bit? or- oh!- the blushing thing you do.” Sans points a segmented finger towards the bridge of your nose.

You self-consciously raise your free hand to your face and feel heat rising to your cheeks.

“yeah, just like that!” He chuckles heartily, but stuffs his hand back into his pocket when you pout. “think about it: i don't have the blood or the capillaries necessary to blush, but my magic supplies an approximation so I can mimic your biology, to put you at ease.

Your mouth falls into a perfect little ‘o’ as revelations hit you, the pieces click into place, and then you can't help the words falling out past your lips.

“Is that why you have a dick?” Suddenly you find yourself pointing almost accusingly at his pelvis.

Sans sputters and coughs, hiding his crotch with the long hemline of his jacket. “ah yeah, some monsters can mimic _that_ well to create necessary organs for sexual intimacy-”

You're blushing again, aghast that actually you asked that aloud.

“Wait, but what does that have to do with souls and confrontations?” You ask, dropping your hand to your lap.

“well i was getting to that before i was so _rudely interrupted_!” He smirks, showing the sharp pointed of his teeth and the corner of his eye sockets wrinkle with mirth.

You would have burrowed your face into the neck of your shirt if it wasn't so hot in there. Hair falls across your face as you nod, pacified.

“however, sometimes the mimicking doesn't help at all. sometimes there are grievances to be aired, conversations to be had, friends to be greeted, and so on. confrontations are, in essence, the ultimate conversation. the magic of both parties is linked and they can communicate on a level that just isn't possible in any other scenario. it's a way of bonding that monsters first start using when they're very young, and it helps everybody find themselves on much more even and stable grounds with their peers.”

You're not sure what to make of that, and you sit in contemplative silence for a moment to let it thoroughly set in.

“Well that explanation certainly makes sense…”

“however, if one party doesn't have the magic needed for an encounter, it becomes a very one sided conversation. i could tell that papyrus was trying to say all these things to you, but your soul just wasn't able to pick up on that.”

“That must have felt really shitty for Papyrus. He's probably been trying for a while to work things out, but because I can't ‘hear’ him, he thinks I'm just ignoring him. No wonder he resorted to-” You sighed heavily. “I need to apologise. He didn't know I'd react like that. Hell, even I didn't know I'd react like that!”

Sans scuffed his feet on the dusty, rocky ground and moved to sit beside you. You shuffle a little to give him room, but he presses insistently against your shoulder. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer. It was certainly the most intimate he'd been in public- often so interested in covering your appearance and hiding you away- and you can't help the blush that spreads fiercely across your cheeks.l

“i know it's a lot to take in, especially when you've been constantly bombarded with information since you, uh, arrived.” His fingers dip beneath the hemline of your shirt and his pointed fingertips rub small circles against the hot skin on your hip.

“Why didn't you help me? Before, with Papyrus?” You ask, your voice soft and barely audible against the bubbling of the water cooler and magma pits.

“ah, that. as much as i wanted to help, i meant it when i said i couldn't. literally.” He shrugs, and you stiffen at his words. He notices your tightened posture and sighs, slowly shaking his head. “m’sorry, it's a bit strange having to explain things that i take for granted: things I've never really had to question or explain before because everyone just _knows_."

The muscles in your neck were feeling sore from the amount of nodding you'd already done, so you simply rested your head against Sans’ shoulder. The unyielding bones were cushioned a little by the soft padding of his jacket, and in turn he relaxed.

“so with confrontations there are certain rules to follow, regardless of whether it's a conversation, for reproduction, or a fight. there's the initial encounter when the souls are drawn out: magic becomes kinda attuned to the area, so it's very difficult for an outside force to end an encounter without attacking the initiator. paps would've been very unhappy if i’d attacked him to end an encounter between you two which, to him at least, was just a way to overcome the differences in physiology and get to understand each other better.”

Your jaw falls slack again as you breathe out a little “Oh…”

“yeah. so next comes the actual ‘conversation’, which hopefully leads to a resolution, which leads to a mutual understanding from both parties who then both agree to end the encounter. things got a bit tense for you, but do you remember saying that you ‘spare him’, or thinking it at least.” His voice is soft beside your temple.

The memory was dulled a little; softened and distant as your horror tried to suppress it, but you give an affirmative hum. At the time the thought was barely a murmur in the back of your mind, too shrouded in fear to come to the forefront, but now that you had calmed significantly you remembered.

“With- with the flower Monster. I never said that I'd spare them. I just wanted it to end…’

“even if an encounter doesn't lead to an agreement, per se, both parties have to agree to end it.”

“What if one doesn't agree?” You ask in a horrified whisper, thinking back to your encounter with the sickly yellow flower with its rows of needle teeth and their rings of white bullets.

“well, i guess you stay there until there's a resolution, or until they spare you... or if one dies. fights don't happen too often around here, but it seems that there's a fine art to showing mercy.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I'm so sorry if this chapter is all over the place!  
> There are some errors with tense and syntax, so I'll edit this later. I need to stop writing and editing chapters at 4 in the bloody morning >~<


	33. Story Update

Hi everyone!

I'm really sorry for the huge delay in updating, however, the more I worked on this story the more I realised how flawed it was, and the more I grew unhappy with it. In my opinion it was disappointing, confusing, and the pace was rushed, and despite having lots of fun and interesting qualities I just wasn't happy.

This made me rather sad because I refused to give up hope on getting this story out, and it really is something I want to share. 

That being said, I wanted to try again. I've decided to completely rewrite Stagnant!

Some of the chapters with be the same, but with further editing that better reflect the skills I've gained whilst writing, updating the plot and removing plotlines that didn't impact the story, remove points that were confusing and led the story away from where I wanted it to go, and finally get my ass into gear for finishing it all.

This rewrite will have exactly the same themes, smut, angst and plot but with a much more concise, better paced and less confusing approach.

I've had the ending written since I originally uploaded chapter 5 and I'm super super excited to get it all out there for you guys to enjoy. 

I don't want to simply update the chapters on this work for I feel it'll be too confusing, and because I wanted to update the title too (given that the stagnant water theme won't play as huge a role in the updated work).

I'm going to create a new work and make it clear it's a rewrite. I'll officially list this as the old one.

 

So look out for " **Who Were You, Before You Were Given a Name?** "

I'll be posting chapters soon! I want to thank each and every one of you for your support, comments, theories, kudos, bookmarks and more. You are the lifeblood of fan fiction, and I hope you'll support my newly rewritten work too :)


	34. Update 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the rewritten version of Stagnant here, with its new title:  
> [Who Were You Before You Were Given A Name](http://archiveofourown.org/works/15546384/chapters/36089718)

Wow! Hi, I'm still alive!  
I've been working on rewriting Stagnant over the past few weeks, and I've finally gotten to a point where I can start to upload it.

Good news, the first couple of chapters are available now to give you a small preview of the new details that have been added. Check the link in the notes above.

  
I'll aim to update at least once a week on Friday mornings.  
Thank you all for your support :3


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